


The Hope In Your Heart

by gckinsey



Series: Russian Sandwich: Exhibitions [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, 5+1 Things With A Twist, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic Asexual Otabek Altin, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Dancing, Drunken Shenanigans, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Frustration, Getting Together, Hot Springs & Onsen, Kissing, Lilia Ships It, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Music, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Katsuki Yuuri, Oblivious Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky Are Best Friends, POV Katsuki Yuuri, POV Victor Nikiforov, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Polyamory, Protective Christophe Giacometti, Protective Phichit Chulanont, Song Lyrics, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-20 21:25:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16145834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gckinsey/pseuds/gckinsey
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky has had feelings for both Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki since their time together in Hasetsu preparing for the Hot Springs on Ice event years ago. Now that he’s 18, he’s decided it’s finally time to tell them… through his skating.Five times Yuri’s exhibition song choice goes right over Viktor and Yuuri’s heads, and the one time it doesn’t. Plus the bonus exhibition song they choose for him!





	1. Cake By The Ocean (Skate America, October 2018)

“Please welcome the gold medalist in men’s singles here at Skate America, representing Russia… Yuri Plisetsky!” 

Yuri glides out onto the ice and takes his opening pose under the multicolored lights, making sure the edge of his thin, scooped-neck shirt falls just so off his shoulder. He finds the smiling faces of his coaches at the edge of the rink and shoots them a smirk before the music begins. When he practically struts into the opening choreography, he knows it’s the hottest he’s ever looked skating it.

He’d meant to do this in a completely different way. It was supposed to be simple… he was going to talk to Viktor and Yuuri after last season’s Worlds, tell them the truth about his feelings for them once and for all. The last of his excuses for keeping them bottled up had fallen away a few weeks before when he’d turned eighteen. The only thing holding him back was his own fear — and he knew _that_ was stupid. 

But when he’d stood on the podium with them after their final competition together, both proud and envious of the gold and silver medals around their necks, he’d still found that fear insurmountable. 

He’d tried not to listen to the words of comfort they murmured to each other next to him — Yuuri’s “I know we’re going to miss this, but it will be okay” and Viktor’s “At least we’ll have time get married now” — but it had been impossible to block them out. Their voices circled over and over through his head, each whispered promise a reminder of what he could never have. The frozen, fake smile he’d shot the cameras around him as he held up his bronze medal was the only thing that had kept him from falling apart.

And as they’d all stepped down from the podium and headed back to the locker room, the question he’d planned to ask them — _Will you be my boyfriends?_ — had come out as “Will you be my coaches?” instead.

They’d happily agreed, and Yuri has been blessed and cursed with their constant presence every day since then.

He’d gotten the idea for his exhibition skate during the off-season in Hasetsu, where they spent their days training at the Ice Castle and their nights relaxing in the onsen. On their rest days, they often went to the beach, where Yuri drank in the glorious, half-naked sight of Viktor and Yuuri in their swimsuits and wished he could kiss them the way he watched them kiss each other. After six months of _that_ , ‘Cake By The Ocean’ had been the obvious song choice.

He’d ignored Yuuri’s constant begging to hear his music and Viktor’s offers to help him with the choreography.

“You should know by now, I always do my own exhibitions,” he’d growled. “And I keep them under wraps until the actual performance.”

It was something he’d started with his ‘Welcome to the Madness’ program right after he’d won his first senior Grand Prix Final, and he’d continued the tradition throughout his career. Yakov and Lilia needled at him endlessly to change his mind and let them put together his exhibitions. He should have known his new coaches would be no different.

But in the end, they’d let him win, smiling and saying they couldn’t wait to see what he would come up with. Now, he’s finally getting his chance to show them… and trying to seduce them at the same time.

He lays it on as thick as he can, rolling his body sensuously to the music as he dives into every move. He feels the cold rush of air as his loose shirt flies up when he spins, exposing his abs. He pops his booty as he skates past them, giving them a perfect view. During his step sequence, he slides his hands down his body in a move borrowed from Yuuri’s ‘Eros’ routine, and incorporates a few pelvic thrust-heavy steps from an even lewder routine from Viktor’s past. Knowing they’ll recognize bits of their old choreography sends a thrill up his spine.

He seeks out their gazes every time he turns in their direction, and makes sure to give them a good eye-fucking as he glides by.

The audience reacts beautifully, screaming and squealing in all the right places. For once, Yuri is truly grateful for the presence of his angels in the crowd. He hopes Yuuri and Viktor are just as entranced as they are. _Let’s lose our minds and go fucking crazy,_ he sings along with the music in his head, even though it’s the clean version that plays throughout the stadium. By the time he slides into his final pose, he’s never felt sexier.

Panting heavily, he skates toward the boards, steeling his nerves for the moment he comes face-to-face with Viktor and Yuuri… only to be yanked into a bear hug and spun around. In the darkened arena, it takes him a second to realize exactly who is lifting him bodily from the ground. But then he sees a familiar flash of red hair and thinks, _Should have known._

“Put me down, Mila,” Yuri says. She just giggles and swings him up around her shoulders. Yuri struggles against her hold, going from shocked to murderous in an instant. He can’t believe she can still put him in lifts even though he’s a head taller than her now. The last thing he needs is for Yuuri and Viktor to look over and see her treating him like he’s still a kid. “ _Now,_ ” Yuri growls, “or my blade is going straight through your face.” 

Mila sighs and lowers him to the floor, but she still doesn’t let go of him.

“Oh, come on, Yurachka,” she says, “is that any way to greet your favorite teammate who’s just trying to congratulate you on your exhibition skate?” 

“Shouldn’t you be focusing on your own?” Yuri says, finally breaking away from Mila and brushing past her. He needs to get to Yuuri and Viktor _now,_ while he can still see their fresh, genuine reactions.

Unfortunately, he’s stopped again on his way over. JJ and Minami, who had stood on the podium with him yesterday, congratulate him again on his gold and tell him how much they enjoyed his program tonight.

“Little Yuri’s all grown up, huh?” JJ says with a wink, which kind of makes Yuri want to vomit. He comforts himself with the thought that if JJ noticed, surely Viktor and Yuuri had, too.

Minami is even worse, throwing his arms around Yuri and squealing, “That was sooooo good!” right in his ear. Then he makes it weird by adding in a whisper, “And _really_ hot,” and Yuri can’t get away from him fast enough. _What the hell._

By the time he finally makes it over to Viktor and Yuuri, he’s so flustered that every word he’d planned to say to them has gone out of his head. Not that the sight of their gorgeous faces wouldn’t have done that to him, anyway.

“Yurio!” Yuuri calls in unison with Viktor’s, “Yura!” and he barely has time to think before they sweep him into a hug. _Okay_ , he tells himself, _so far, so good._ But they don’t hold onto him any longer than usual, and neither of their hands slide down to his ass despite all his wishing.

“What a program!” Viktor grins as they both pull back. “That step sequence was perfect, I couldn’t have choreographed it better myself!” Yuri rolls his eyes fondly. Viktor’s ego has annoyed him for a long time, but over the years Yuri has also come to find it endearing. Just like everything else about him. “And that triple axel!” Viktor continues. “Where was that perfect form three days ago when you skated your short program?”

_Wait,_ Yuri thinks, _what?_  Surely Viktor isn’t slipping into his usual habit of giving him notes right after his skate. If he can still think so clearly after watching that program, then Yuri and his… _assets_ hadn’t done their job.

“You know,” Viktor says, “the next time you skate this, you should think about adding a layback spin right after the —” 

“Vitya,” Yuuri cuts in, “it’s an exhibition. He doesn’t need you to pick it apart.” Yuuri turns in Yuri’s direction and beams at him, making Yuri’s insides melt a little. “That was stunning, Yurio,” he says, and the words cut straight through Yuri like a knife, because they’re earnest and sweet and _so_ not what he wants to hear. “Is that better?” 

_Not really._

“Yuuri’s right,” Viktor says with a sheepish little smile. “You were brilliant.” 

Yuri bites the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming in frustration.

“Thanks,” he manages to squeeze out before following them on numb, shaky legs to the seating area. He fumes in silence as he watches the rest of the gala, trying to figure out where things went so wrong. He knows he was sexy enough, if ( _shudder_ ) Minami’s words were any indication. And he knows he’d aimed all that sex appeal at his intended targets by the sheer number of times he’d met their eyes during his performance. What he doesn’t know is why his message — his desire, his longing, his love — had failed to reach them.

He’ll have to skate to something even better next time.

* * *

“Hey, Yuuri,” Viktor says as they stand side-by-side at the counter in their hotel bathroom, getting ready for bed. “Do you have a thing for Yura?” 

Yuuri nearly drops his toothbrush.

“ _What?!_ ” he yelps. 

Viktor chuckles.

“You know,” he says, casually gesturing with one hand as he dabs on face cream with the other. “Do you find him attractive? Do you have feelings for him? Do you — ” 

“ _Viktor!_ ” Yuuri’s face is flaming red. “W-why would you even say that?” 

“I was just curious,” Viktor shrugs. He winks and adds, “I saw you checking him out during his skate tonight.” 

Yuuri splutters and coughs, nearly choking on his swig of mouthwash. Viktor reaches over and pats his back, then rubs soothing circles into it until Yuuri recovers. 

“Sorry,” he says through an affectionate grin, “bad timing, hmm?” 

“Vitya,” Yuuri whimpers, “what… what are you… ?” He’s breathing heavily, hands braced against the countertop and face turned down toward the sink. “I _love_ you,” he says between gasps, “I would never… I would never cheat on you, or whatever you’re suggesting — ” 

Viktor’s chest lurches at the panicked hurt on Yuuri’s face. He wraps his arms around Yuuri’s shaking body, pulling him close. 

“Oh, Yuuri,” he murmurs soothingly, “Yuuri… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He trails his fingers up and down Yuuri’s back, threading them up into his hair. “I’m not mad at you, or accusing you of anything. I really was just asking.” 

Yuuri finally relaxes a bit and pulls back to look at Viktor. His cheeks are still flushed.

“But… _why?_ ” 

Viktor cups Yuuri’s confused face between his palms and softly kisses him.

“It’s okay if you do, you know,” he whispers. “If you have a thing for him, I mean.” He gently bumps their noses together. “…I do.” 

Yuuri’s mouth drops open in shock, but Viktor sees other emotions darting across his eyes… like relief. And delight.

His own smile widens.

It’s not until several minutes later, when they’re both snuggled up in the luxurious hotel bed, that Yuuri seems to recover his ability to speak.

“I never would have said anything, you know,” he mumbles into Viktor’s shoulder. “I never would have brought it up if you hadn’t.” 

“I know,” Viktor says, caressing Yuuri’s neck with his thumb. “Why do you think I did?” 

Yuuri huffs out a disbelieving laugh.

“I can’t believe we’re even talking about this,” he says.

“Why not?” Viktor asks, brushing Yuuri’s bangs aside so he can meet his eyes. “We talk about everything.” 

“Yes,” Yuuri says, “but…” He tightens his grip around Viktor’s waist. “I would never do anything to risk losing you, you know? I would have been perfectly happy to let this be a — a secret crush… ” 

Viktor presses their bodies closer together.

“I would never risk losing you, either,” he says, “or hurting you.” He kisses Yuuri’s forehead. “I wouldn’t have said a word if I hadn’t just watched you stare at Yurachka’s ass for four minutes straight,” he adds with a giggle.

Yuuri grabs the nearest pillow and throws it on top of his own face, hiding his deepening blush.

“Viktor!” he groans.

Viktor moves the pillow out of the way so he can kiss Yuuri again.

“Yuuri,” he says, “there’s no need to be embarrassed. I thought it was cute, how obvious you were…” 

Yuuri snatches the pillow back and whacks him with it. Viktor retaliates by tickling Yuuri’s ribs. They spend the next few minutes playfully tousling on the bed, squealing with laughter, until both of them are a disheveled mess.

“So,” Viktor sighs when they finally settle back into an embrace, “now that we know we both feel the same way about Yura, what are we going to do about it?”

Yuuri’s eyes widen.

“We’re going to do something about it?” he says.

Viktor tilts his head and replies, “Only if you want to.” 

Yuuri smiles and leans up for a kiss.

“…I do if you do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my OT3 hell! I'm excited to have you along for the ride. ;P I hope you're enjoying this so far. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> The song Yuri skates to is [Cake By The Ocean](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHKbaMj8mfI) by DNCE. I'll keep a running list going with every chapter. There will be 7 chapters/songs total.
> 
> Feel free to check out my [fandom Twitter](https://twitter.com/TheTrashiverse) and scream with me about trash ships. I reblog a lot of YOI.
> 
> Thanks for reading & hope to see you next chapter!


	2. Somewhere Only We Know (NHK Trophy, November 2018)

_They’re not stupid,_ Yuri tells himself, scrolling through the songs on his mp3 player in search of inspiration. _They skate to songs that express how they feel about each other all the time. So what did I do wrong?_

It’s been a week since Skate America, and he’s still too steamed about Viktor and Yuuri’s reaction (or lack thereof) to his exhibition to think about much else. 

“Aren’t you even happy you just won a gold medal?” Mila asks him, and he knows his mood must be confusing to her and their other rinkmates. After all, she’d come home from Skate America with a silver and she’s a little ray of sunshine compared to him. But she also hadn’t poured all her feelings into an exhibition, only to have them ignored.

The answer comes to Yuri during a conversation with Otabek.

As Yuri’s best friend, Otabek is the only other person who knows how he feels about Yuuri and Viktor. He’d asked Yuri about it after Worlds last season, and when Yuri spluttered and choked out, “How did you know?” Otabek smirked and said, “Lucky guess.” They’d spent a good portion of the banquet talking about it, and later, when each of Yuri’s new coaches took him for a turn on the dance floor, Otabek gave him their characteristic thumbs-up.

“I know this isn’t really your thing,” Yuri says during their weekly FaceTime chat, “but do you know any good songs I can use in my next exhibition to show Viktor and Yuuri how much I… want them?” Otabek’s eyebrows shoot up, and Yuri adds, “I tried ‘Cake By The Ocean’ at Skate America, but they didn’t get it.” 

“Well, the first time I heard that song, I thought it was about literal cake,” Otabek snorts.

“Of course you did,” Yuri grins, rolling his eyes. “They’re not ace, though, so what’s their excuse?” 

“I don’t know,” Otabek says. “I saw the video of your performance, and it seemed pretty obvious to me. Then again, I knew who you were skating for.” 

“I’m not _telling_ them who I’m skating for!” Yuri snaps. “The song should be obvious enough for them to figure it out!” He lets out a long sigh, and his voice is softer when he speaks again. “That’s why I need your help.” 

“I can give you another music dump,” Otabek says, and Yuri perks up at that. It’s something Otabek does every so often — refreshing Yuri’s music collection with all the new stuff he’s been listening to. And as a DJ, he listens to tons of new stuff all the time. It’s been months since he last gave Yuri a fresh batch of songs, and Yuri feels long overdue. 

“Yes,” Yuri says, eyes gleaming, “you owe me.” 

“Look for a download link in a few minutes,” Otabek says, and Yuri sees him reach over to his laptop and press a few keys. “But I don’t know if that will solve your problem. You’re the only one who knows what you’re looking for.” 

Yuri groans. Otabek may be the greatest friend in the world, but sometimes he can be so damn annoying.

“I told you,” he says, “I’m looking for something sexier than my last exhibition song.” He hastily amends, “Not so sexy it will get me in trouble with the ISU, though. Like, I wish I could skate to ‘I Wanna Fuck You In The Ass,’ but I know I’d get fined.” 

Otabek chuckles and says, “I bet Chris already tried.” 

When they both calm down from their laughter, Otabek’s expression turns thoughtful.

“Maybe going sexier isn’t the right approach,” he says. “Have you thought about choosing a song that shows your romantic love for them instead?” 

The suggestion makes sense, coming from Otabek. He’s the one who had first introduced Yuri to the concept of separate romantic and sexual orientations, something that had greatly enhanced Yuri’s understanding of attraction and feelings. His mind flashes back to his first senior season, and the routines Viktor had choreographed for him and Yuuri — ‘Eros’ and ‘Agape,’ two different kinds of love — and he can’t believe he didn’t think of this himself. 

“That’s it,” he says. “I only showed them a part of how I feel with that skate. I need a song that shows them the rest.” 

In the end, he finds the right music within his own collection, hidden in plain sight on one of his older playlists. He hadn’t thought about using it in a program since a cover version of it became popular among figure skaters a couple of years back. He doesn’t like skating to the same song as others when he competes — but for an exhibition, anything is fair game. And this one is perfect.

He still downloads Otabek’s new music dump, though. It’s clear that confessing his feelings will be more complicated than he’d initially thought, and he never knows when he might need some of those songs in the future.

* * *

Yuuri watches Yuri cut a path across the ice and throw himself into another quad lutz-triple toe-triple loop. It’s the toughest pass in his free program, especially now that he’s had to re-learn all three jumps at his new adult height. He’s been practicing the combination for the last half hour, earbuds in, so intensely focused that he’s unaware of Yuuri’s presence. Yuuri hopes it stays that way so he can stare a little longer.

It’s not long before Viktor’s shoulder bumps his and a cup of hot chocolate is pressed into his hands. He kisses Viktor’s cheek in silent thanks.

Viktor wraps himself around Yuuri from behind, chin resting lightly on his shoulder as both their eyes trace Yuri’s path.

“He certainly is gorgeous, isn’t he?” Viktor whispers in Yuuri’s ear. 

“Viktor!” Yuuri hisses back. “We can’t talk about this now!” 

“Why not?” Viktor says, a touch of amusement in his voice. “He’s wearing his headphones, he’s not paying attention to us. He doesn’t even know we’re here.” 

Yuuri rolls his eyes.

“So… when do you think we should tell him?” Viktor asks. “ _What_ do you think we should tell him?” 

Yuuri leans back into Viktor so that their faces are even closer together, just in case Yuri is paying more attention than they think. He sucks in a gulp of air and whispers out the thing that’s been weighing on his mind ever since that night in their hotel room after Skate America.

“…Do you think he even feels the same way about us?” 

Viktor’s soft laughter tickles his neck.

“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” he says.

“I’m serious,” Yuuri says. “Do you think there’s a good chance of it — of it going well, if we tell him? Because if not… I don’t want to ruin what we already have.” He swallows as he watches Yuri bend his body into a stunning Beillmann spin. “His friendship means a lot to me.” 

Viktor lets out a long sigh through his nose.

“I know,” he says. 

The three of them have grown unimaginably close in the years since the tense, highly-charged time they’d spent together in Hasetsu preparing for the Hot Springs on Ice event. Although Yuri’s relationship with both of them — especially with Yuuri — had been contentious at first, it had morphed into fierce yet friendly competition over time. And now that they’re coaching him, that last competitive streak has fallen away, leaving only an intensely close bond in its wake. Yuri has become a permanent fixture in both of their lives, and Yuuri can’t imagine their relationship without him.

What sort of relationship Yuri might want with them, though — romantic, platonic, or otherwise — remains a mystery. For as long as Yuuri and Viktor have known him, he’s never exactly been open with his feelings.

“Do we really know how he feels about us at all?” Yuuri asks.

“Well,” Viktor says, “he obviously admires us as skaters… he always has.” 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he admires us in — in other ways!” Yuuri says, feeling his cheeks grow warm even in the cold air of the rink. “When you think about it… has he ever admired _anyone_ in that way?” 

“If he has, I’m sure he’d rather die than admit it,” Viktor smirks.

“Exactly!” Yuuri says. “If he did like us, we’d never even know it! I mean, he’s always so… prickly.” 

“He is, isn’t he?” Viktor giggles. “It’s part of his charm.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri agrees, gazing fondly across the ice at Yuri for a moment before he looks down and sighs. “But it doesn’t make this any easier.” 

They both contemplate the subject of their conversation in silence for the next couple of minutes as he runs the combination pass yet again.

“Oh no,” Viktor says out of nowhere, and Yuri wobbles on the landing of the triple loop as if echoing Viktor’s sentiment. “Do you think he already has something going on with Otabek?” 

“I did at first,” Yuuri says, both laughing at Viktor’s cluelessness and relieved that he can assuage his fear. “But Otabek doesn’t swing that way.” Viktor catches his eye, one brow raised, and Yuuri clarifies, “He’s aro ace.” 

“Oh,” Viktor says. “How did you know that?” 

“I overheard him coming out to Yurio in the locker room the first time he came to visit the rink,” Yuuri says. “You can’t tell anyone… I’m not supposed to know.” 

“Don’t worry,” Viktor says, “my lips are sealed.” 

“Wait,” Yuuri says, eyes widening, “do we even know which way Yurio swings?” 

Viktor chuckles in his ear.

“Oh, yes,” Viktor says, “he’s totally thirsty for the boys.” At the sight of Yuuri’s mouth dropping open, he adds, “I overheard him coming out to his grandpa back when he was still in juniors.” 

Yuuri buries his face in his hands.

“We are the _worst,_ ” he moans.

“Guilty,” Viktor grins. “Filthy eavesdroppers, the both of us.” 

“So we know he’s gay,” Yuuri says, “but how do we know if he’s —” 

“Hey!” Yuri shouts from the opposite side of the rink. “Are you two idiots going to coach me, or are you just going to stand there being gross?” 

They both nearly jump out of their skin.

“Let’s see you run that combination one more time!” Viktor calls back. “Then we’ll join you!” 

Yuuri sags against Viktor, letting out a whoosh of air.

“That was close,” he whispers.

They both watch Yuri sweep around the ice to set up for his jumping pass.

“You know,” Yuuri says carefully, “I think we should take our time with him. See if we can figure out anything about how he feels. And… and maybe wait until the off-season before we say something?”

Yuri launches into the combination once more. This time, he nails all three jumps perfectly.

“I think you’re right,” Viktor sighs. “We don’t want to do anything that will affect him in competition. He needs us as his coaches first right now. We can figure out the rest later.” 

Yuri spins to a stop and stares across the rink at them expectantly.

“That was fantastic, Yurio!” Yuuri says, giving him a smile and a thumbs-up.

“Now,” Viktor adds, detaching himself from Yuuri and moving toward the booth to start Yuri’s music, “let’s see you run your whole free skate from the top…” 

* * *

Yuri tries to block out the sound of the announcer’s voice introducing him as he takes the ice for his exhibition skate. _Fucking silver._ He still can’t believe it. He’d skated two perfectly executed programs, but Phichit Chulanont had beaten him by mere hundredths of a point yesterday to win the gold medal at the NHK Trophy. 

Yuuri and Viktor had wrapped him up in a fierce, warm embrace the moment the final scores had been announced, but even that hadn’t been enough to calm his rage. He’d stood on the podium with clenched fists and tight shoulders, teeth bared in more of a grimace than a smile.

Viktor had noticed and put his arm around him afterward, murmuring, “Oh, Yurachka… a silver medal is nothing to be upset about,” in his ear.

Face burning in shame, Yuri had shrugged out of his arms and growled, “I don’t want to hear it, Mr. ‘I won’t kiss it unless it’s gold.’” 

Yuuri had appeared at his side then, softly rubbing his back while whispering in a soothing voice, “It’s okay, Yurio… it’s only a qualifier. You’ll still make the final.” 

And even though what they’d both said was true, it hadn’t helped. Yuri wanted a competitive season with gold medals across the board. But now that’s not going to happen, and it stings. The only thing that calms him is the opening chords of his music, the soft pulse of piano and drums carrying him into the first steps of his exhibition routine.

Just as he’d done at Skate America, he looks for Viktor and Yuuri at the boards as he begins. But everything about this skate feels completely different. Before, he’d simply been trying to seduce them. Now, he bends his body to bare his soul. His love is carefully woven into every move he makes across the ice. _So tell me when you’re gonna let me in,_ he feels the lyrics sing through each muscle and limb, and he hopes they feel the words just as deep inside. His eyes find theirs between steps, jumps, and spins, over and over, willing them to see what he needs so desperately to show them.

Before he slides into his final pose, he notices that their arms are already outstretched, ready to receive him.

“Yura!” “Yurio!” they cry, practically hauling him off the ice into their embrace, and his breath hitches when he finally meets their gazes up close. 

“That was beautiful,” Yuuri sighs into the crook of his neck, and Yuri’s insides go numb. “I think that might be my favorite thing I’ve ever seen you skate.” 

Before he can even attempt to recover his senses, Viktor’s whispering in his ear, soft lips grazing the shell, “I loved that song choice,” and _holy shit,_ Yuri thinks as the bottom drops out of his stomach, _it’s finally happening._ Viktor pulls back a little to meet Yuri’s eyes with a warm smile. “‘Somewhere Only We Know’ really brings out your softer side. And it’s so nice to see someone use the original version for once, instead of that damned cover!” he adds.

Yuri feels like someone has poured ice water down his back.

_It still didn’t work,_ he realizes, heart pounding against the walls of his hollowed-out chest. Viktor doesn’t get it, obviously. And neither does Yuuri, who’s now agreeing with his fiancé and gushing over how much he loves the original song too.  _And to think I dared to hope._

Yuri blinks to clear the thought from his mind before it can overwhelm him, drawing forth the tough exterior he knows he can trust to hide how much he’s hurting.

“Of _course_ I didn’t skate to the fucking cover version,” he huffs. “Do I look like a walking cliché?” 

He shoves past them to find his seat before either of them can answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now Yuri's running exhibition playlist is...  
> 1 - [Cake By The Ocean](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHKbaMj8mfI) by DNCE  
> 2 - [Somewhere Only We Know](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASJkHGd8Yfc) by Keane
> 
> The cover version of [Somewhere Only We Know](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqCIs4ymMmw) referenced in this chapter is by Lily Allen, and it actually has been used by figure skaters in real life. 
> 
> The song Yuri mentions in his conversation with Otabek is [I Wanna Fuck You In The Ass](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P9WVE2Ptbbk) by The Outhere Brothers, which (to my knowledge) has NOT been used by figure skaters in real life. But I'm sure it has been used by Chris. ;)
> 
> Otabek is aro ace in this story because I myself am on the aro and ace spectrums and I enjoy seeing the representation. Literally that's it. XD
> 
> Please check out my [fandom Twitter](https://twitter.com/TheTrashiverse) if you want to join me for trash shipping shenanigans.
> 
> And as always, thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought! :)


	3. Two Heads (Grand Prix Final, December 2018)

“…Almost there, hold it, hold it — five, six, seven, eight,” Lilia says. “And done.” 

Yuri slumps out of the painful stretch, barely biting back a moan of relief. It’s his first ballet session since the NHK Trophy, and Lilia’s really put him through his paces today. He swears she’d somehow found out he skipped the recommended rest day after flying home from Japan and decided to punish him for it. His legs tremble as he hauls himself to his feet and starts packing his bag to leave.

“When did you put together a new exhibition skate?” she asks. “The choreography was lovely.” 

He jumps a little at the rare praise, fumbling his water bottle.

“I just wanted to do something different,” he says.

“I’d certainly say you succeeded.” She fixes him with a calculating look. “What did your coaches think?” 

Yuri slings his bag over his shoulder, turning away from her so she won’t see the scowl darkening his face. His throat feels tight and he speaks carefully, hoping his voice won’t betray him.

“…They liked my choice of music.”  _Just not the way I wanted them to._

“It was a beautiful song,” Lilia says. “But I would have chosen something more direct if I were you. Something that made my intentions completely clear.” 

Yuri stops in his tracks. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut and brought to his knees — only to have the floor drop out from under him and leave him endlessly falling. He clutches the strap of his bag, desperate to ground himself as the room spins around him.

“They’re brilliant at skating,” Lilia continues, “but they can be really stupid about everything else. If you want them to get the message, you’ll have to hit them over the head with it.” 

_No no no no no,_ Yuri’s mind spirals. _How the hell did she figure it out?_

He fights through his panic just enough to scream, “Mind your own business, hag!” as he races out the door, slamming it behind him to block out the sound of her laughter.

* * *

Yuri spends the next three weeks going through every single song in his music collection. As much as he’s tried to forget Lilia’s words, they echo again and again in his head, a constant reminder that his next choice had better be good. And she’s right — it’s for the Grand Prix Final, after all.

He starts with the music dump from Otabek, figuring that’s his best hope. But while it introduces him to lots of interesting bands and artists he’s never heard of before, it doesn’t contain anything that feels right for his next exhibition. He turns back to the rest of his music, re-listening to familiar songs and hoping to find something new in one of them. 

He doesn’t. 

By the time he’s boarding the first leg of his series of flights to Vancouver, Yuri is starting to freak out.

_Calm down,_ he tells himself as he settles into his seat next to Viktor and Yuuri on the plane. _You choreographed the exhibition for your first senior Grand Prix Final in less than a day, and you can do it again. As long as you find your music in time._

He splurges on the in-flight wifi so he can keep scouring the internet for a song that will work. For once, he’s relieved that Yuuri and Viktor are too caught up in each other to notice him Googling things like “songs about being in love with two people.” The hours tick by quickly as he comes up short over and over, and before he knows it, the plane is touching down in Frankfurt. 

Yuri tries to reassure himself with the knowledge that the next flight to Toronto is much longer, and he’ll have over eight hours to find the perfect song. But he doesn’t have any more success in his search, and by the time they arrive in Canada, he’s struggling to keep his hands still and his breathing even as he fights back a frustrated roar.

_You may as well give up,_ he thinks as he relieves himself in a cramped Pearson International Airport bathroom stall. _The song you’re looking for doesn’t exist._

Then, out of nowhere, it does.

_I turn to you,_ a voice sings over the pulsing techno beat on the radio. _You’re all I see… I love a monster with two heads and one heartbeat._

Yuri gasps and yanks his phone out of the pocket of his hoodie. He uses one app to identify the song and another to download it. He has it saved to his music collection before it’s even finished blaring through the bathroom. He doesn’t need to hear it all the way through to know it’s the one.

When he does listen to the whole thing, though, he likes it even better. The beat has a dark, heavy crunch, backed up with a rolling undercurrent of banjo. It’s an interesting sound with a fierce energy that perfectly mirrors Yuri’s passionate feelings for Viktor and Yuuri. The fact that the lyrics are a direct, pointed description of the way he sees them is just the icing on the cake.

He pulls up his notes app so he can start hashing out his exhibition choreography on the last leg of their trip. When they land in Vancouver, he’s already got the order and placement of his jumps and spins down. All he needs is some rink time to bring it to life — and a gold medal win at the Grand Prix Final so he can show it to Yuuri and Viktor with pride.

* * *

“Look at him,” Viktor sighs in Yuuri’s ear, gazing unabashedly at Yuri’s sleeping form. “This is the most relaxed I’ve seen him in months.” 

They’re on the long middle leg of their journey home from the Grand Prix Final, and Yuri has been fast asleep the whole time. It’s a stark contrast from the way he’d spent the trip to Vancouver for the Final, constantly doing something on his phone, earbuds in and eyes frantic.

Yuuri glances over at Yuri too before turning his eyes to Viktor’s.

“I know,” Yuuri says, and Viktor can hear the relief in his voice. “Yurio’s looked so stressed lately… I’ve been worried about him.” 

“So have I,” Viktor says. Yuri had pushed himself to the breaking point in the weeks leading up to the Final. It’s exactly what Viktor had always done when he was still competing, and that’s what’s really concerning. Viktor knows all too well how easy it can be to sacrifice your whole life for gold. And as proud as he is of Yuri’s accomplishments, he doesn’t want to watch him make that same mistake.

Right now, with his eyes closed and the usual sharp crease between his brows smoothed out, Yuri looks like a completely different person than he had during the competition. Viktor wants to see him look like this more often.

“He didn’t really look happy this whole trip,” Yuuri says, echoing Viktor’s thoughts. “Not even when he found out he’d won gold.”

Viktor nods, frowning. 

“The more you win, the more you’re expected to win,” he says. “So when you win a lot, you don’t really have time to be happy before it’s on to the next competition.” He exhales through his nose. “It’s like a curse.” 

Yuuri reaches over and squeezes Viktor’s hand.

“One way or another, he’ll learn that he needs balance in his life,” Viktor continues. “I just hope he doesn’t learn it the hard way.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Yuuri says, “to help make sure he doesn’t.” He lifts Viktor’s hand to kiss his ring, and as familiar as the gesture has become, it still makes Viktor’s insides melt. “We need to do our best to support him.” 

“Mmm, you’re right,” Viktor says. 

Yuuri’s gaze drops to his lap.

“I hope he’ll let us, though,” Yuuri whispers, and Viktor can feel his hand trembling a little against his own. “Sometimes I’m scared we’re losing him. He barely said a word to us all week that wasn’t about the competition. And he seemed almost… angry last night after his exhibition.” 

“You thought so, too?” Viktor says. “So I wasn’t just imagining it.”

Yuri had put together another new exhibition for the Grand Prix Final — his third one this season, and possibly his best one yet. He’d chosen a striking song, something about a two-headed monster, and his fierce steps and spins complimented it perfectly. He hadn’t pulled any punches with his jumps, either, throwing down a triple axel and a quad lutz like he was skating for points instead of for the crowd. They’d eaten it up regardless, and so had Viktor, for once not finding a single thing to nitpick.

He and Yuuri had swept Yuri up into their arms the second he stepped off the ice, spinning him around and showering him with praise. But for some reason, Yuri had walked away from their hugs and compliments with frustration clouding his eyes.

“Every time I try to connect with him lately,” Yuuri says, “it feels like I fail. I… I’m scared that I can’t be what he needs as a coach anymore. Or as a friend.” He looks back up at Viktor, eyes shiny and wet. “And if that’s true,” he says, “then what hope is there for more?” 

Viktor pulls Yuuri in tight against his chest, one hand cradling the back of his head. The angle is a little uncomfortable in their airplane seats, but Viktor doesn’t care. He strokes Yuuri’s hair and presses soft kisses against his forehead until the tension eases out of his body.

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs into his skin, “we can’t give up yet. I don’t think Yura’s trying to shut us out. He’s just putting himself under so much pressure that there’s no room for anything else.”

Yuuri sniffs and nuzzles against Viktor’s collarbone.

“And we both know what that’s like,” Viktor adds. “Right?” 

“I don’t know,” Yuuri says, voice muffled by Viktor’s sweater. “I wasn’t like you or Yurio, going straight from winning all the time in juniors to winning all the time in seniors. I had to fight my way to the top, and — and even then, I didn’t start winning until after I hit rock bottom.” He huffs out a breath against Viktor’s neck. “I can’t even _imagine_ the kind of pressure Yurio’s feeling.” 

“Oh, really?” Viktor says. “That’s not what I remember from my first season as your coach.”

He feels Yuuri grow still.

“You were just as hard on yourself then as Yura is now,” Viktor continues. “Perhaps even harder.” He starts to rub slow circles into Yuuri’s back. “When I started coaching you, I could practically _feel_ how much you were stressing yourself out. And I didn’t know how to reach you… nothing I tried was working.” He gives Yuuri’s shoulder a squeeze. “But we got through that, didn’t we?” 

Yuuri finally looks up, cheeks tinged pink and a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” he says, reaching up to caress Viktor’s cheek, “we did. So how do we get through it with Yurio?” 

“Well,” Viktor says, “for you and me, we had to learn to trust each other. But Yura already trusts us, and cares about us. So maybe we should do more to prove how much we care about him.” 

“Like what?” Yuuri asks. “I feel like we’re already doing everything.” 

Viktor tilts his head and brings a finger to his lips, humming in thought.

“You made a good point about supporting Yura as his coaches _and_ friends,” he says. “Perhaps we’ve put so much effort into coaching him that our friendship has taken a backseat…” 

Yuuri nods, brow furrowed.

“You’re right,” he mutters, “but I don’t think it’s just us.” His hands twist in his lap. “You know… Yurio trains even on his days off.” 

Viktor blinks.

“ _What?_ ” 

“When we were still finishing his free program choreography, I went to the rink one afternoon to work on it,” Yuuri says. “And Yurio was already there, doing the same thing. I told him he didn’t have practice that day, but he just said —” Yuuri narrows his eyes in an approximation of Yuri’s scowl, “‘There are no days off for champions.’” 

Viktor shakes his head. 

“Of course he did.” 

Yuuri leans forward, chin in his hands.

“As his coaches, all we can do is tell him when to take rest days,” Yuuri says. “But as his friends… maybe we can make sure he spends them actually resting.” 

Viktor breaks out in a huge smile.

“You mean kidnap him?” he says eagerly. “And make him do something fun instead of going to the rink?” 

“I was thinking we’d at least invite him first,” Yuuri giggles. “We’ll only kidnap him if we have to.” 

“Ooh,” Viktor says, “can we start as soon as we get home? Take the day off together and celebrate his gold medal with movies and homemade katsudon?” 

“That sounds perfect,” Yuuri says, leaning up to brush his nose against Viktor’s. Viktor responds with a soft, lingering kiss.

They both slump back into their seats in relief, returning their gazes to Yuri. At last, Viktor feels about as content as Yuri looks.

“How did we not think of this sooner?” he sighs. “All that worrying, and the answer might be as simple as asking him to spend the day with us once a week.” 

“I hope so,” Yuuri says.

“And when the off-season comes,” Viktor adds with a smirk, “we can start asking him to spend the night with us too…” 

“ _Viktor!_ ” 

* * *

Yuri storms into Lilia’s ballet studio and throws down his bag, dreading how much his warm-up stretches are going to hurt. He can’t believe he’d let those morons convince him to take a whole day off. 

“Yurachka,” Viktor had smiled, throwing an arm across his shoulders on the way through the Pulkovo Airport terminal toward their waiting car. “Since tomorrow’s a rest day, why don’t you come spend it with us?” 

Yuuri softly patted his head and added, “I’ll make katsudon.”  

“Fine,” Yuri grunted, shrugging away from their touches before they could make him blush.

He’d spent the next day at their apartment, helping Viktor walk and bathe Makkachin and working with Yuuri to prepare their katsudon. After the meal, he huddled up between them on their too-small couch for a movie marathon, trying and failing to ignore the sensation of their legs pressed against his. 

At some point Viktor dozed off with his head on Yuri’s shoulder, and Yuri froze, not sure what to do. Yuuri noticed, but instead of getting jealous like a normal person, he just chuckled under his breath and said, “Watch out, Yurio — he’s like an octopus. Once he starts cuddling you, there is no escape.” Then he shifted so he was leaning a bit more heavily against Yuri, too, and turned his attention back toward the screen.

What the _hell._

Yuri had gone home that night twisted up in a storm of emotions — joy at their affections, confusion at their intentions, and frustration at the way their evening had been “Netflix and chill” in the most literal sense. He still doesn’t know what to make of it. Especially since his latest exhibition skate, just like the others, had sailed right over their heads. 

Lilia doesn’t help, either. She’s barely through the door before she says, “Your song choice was far too subtle… again.”

Yuri lets out a snarl.

“Good morning to you, too,” he grinds out. “I’m fine, thank you for asking. And yes, I did win gold, thank you for congratulating me.” 

Lilia just snickers through her nose.

“We both know your gold medal isn’t what you really care about,” she says. “Otherwise you would be in a much better mood today.” 

She begins to guide him through his stretches, and _fuck,_ that does hurt, even worse than he’d thought.

“That song was far from subtle,” he hisses, wincing at the tightness in his legs that wouldn’t be there if he hadn’t agreed to that stupid day of rest and relaxation, dammit. “Have you even _heard_ a better description of Viktor and Katsudon than ‘a monster with two heads and one heartbeat’?”

“No,” Lilia says, “but you can’t throw a metaphor like that at those two and expect them to get it. You have to give it to them straight.” 

Yuri huffs, crossing his arms over his chest for a moment before Lilia forces him to put them in some impossible position.

“…I thought I told you to mind your own business!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuri's current playlist...  
> 1 - [Cake By The Ocean](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHKbaMj8mfI) by DNCE  
> 2 - [Somewhere Only We Know](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASJkHGd8Yfc) by Keane  
> 3 - [Two Heads](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhp2KCqGMZQ) by Coleman Hell (Riddler Remix)
> 
> Fun fact: Yuri hearing Two Heads in an airport bathroom was borrowed straight out of my life. The same thing happened to me while traveling for business, right after I'd started shipping Viktuurio, and that song totally made me think of my OT3. XD
> 
> Also, St. Petersburg to Vancouver via Frankfurt and Toronto is an actual flight route you can take. The things I research for fanfiction... 
> 
> Come cry with me about trash ships on my [fandom Twitter](https://twitter.com/TheTrashiverse).
> 
> And please let me know how you liked this chapter! Thanks for reading! :)


	4. Mr. Brightside (Russian Nationals, December 2018)

“Those — fucking — _idiots!_ ” Yuri fumes, fist pounding against the wall to punctuate every word. “How can they still be so stupid?” He keeps punching the wall all the way to the locker room door, spewing a stream of English and Russian cursing so foul it would’ve made Yakov’s face turn purple if he’d been there to hear it. 

The second Yuri throws open the locker room door, he’s stopped by a firm squeeze of his ass.

“My goodness,” a deep voice purrs in his ear, “someone’s angry tonight.” 

_Ugh…Chris._

Viktor and Yuuri had invited Chris and Phichit to spend the holidays with them in Saint Petersburg, which meant they were both around to watch Russian Nationals. Yuri wishes Otabek could have come too instead of staying with his family. It would’ve been nice to have his best friend here to balance out his coaches’ best friends’ antics. Especially when it comes to shit like this.

“Hands off me now if you want to live,” Yuri spits.

“Ooh,” Chris snickers, his smug tone making Yuri want to strangle him even more, “kitty’s got claws!” But he thankfully takes his hand back, shoving it into the front pocket of his jacket instead. “So what’s got you so riled up?” 

Yuri crosses his arms, glaring at him.

“None of your fucking business.” 

“It is my business when it involves my best friend,” Chris says with a challenging gleam in his eye, and Yuri’s chest gives an unpleasant lurch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, hating the way his voice turns breathy and betrays him.

“Oh, I think you do.” Chris narrows his eyes and leans forward into Yuri’s space. “You weren’t fooling anyone with that exhibition skate. You think it isn’t obvious, how you have feelings for him?” 

Yuri feels all the blood drain from his face.

He’d skated to ‘Mr. Brightside’ that night, a choice that had surprisingly been Lilia’s idea. She’d blasted it in her ballet studio one day when Yuri was warming up, about a week after the Grand Prix Final. Yuri raised his eyebrow — Lilia never played music unless they were practicing his choreography — and she shrugged.

“For your next exhibition, perhaps?” she said. “Just a suggestion.” 

“How many times to I have to tell you to mind your own business!” he snapped.

“I thought you’d like it,” she said, a hint of a smirk in her voice. “It was all you could listen to after the 2015 Cup of China, as I recall.” 

And it’s true — he’d had that song going on repeat for weeks after he and the rest of the world watched Viktor kiss Yuuri right there on the ice. The lyrics perfectly described what Yuri had felt then, seeing them together: _I just can’t look, it’s killing me._

_Fuck_ , Yuri thought, casting a grudging glance in Lilia’s direction. _How loud was I blasting my headphones back then, and who else heard?_

Through clenched teeth, he told her quietly, “…You’re not wrong.” 

They’d started choreographing his routine together that same day. Yuri had felt both excited and terrified to perform it, certain that Viktor and Yuuri would finally catch on. But… 

“Clearly it’s obvious to everyone but them!” Yuri barks at Chris. The words burst out of him before he can stop them. 

Chris’ perfectly shaped eyebrows shoot up.

“Them?” he repeats. “You mean… _both_ of them?” 

Yuri slumps against the door and nods, scrubbing his sleeves over his rapidly heating cheeks.

“Oh,” Chris says, voice softening a little. “And here I thought you were just jealous of Yuuri for getting to be with Viktor. This is more complicated than I thought…” 

“Shut _up!_ ” Yuri shouts, shoving Chris away from him. “I know _exactly_ how complicated it is, all right? I don’t need you to remind me!” 

Chris regards him silently for a few moments, something glimmering in his eyes that Yuri isn’t sure he can name.

“How did they react to your performance tonight?” he finally asks.

“The same way they always do,” Yuri huffs. “Katsudon did his usual over-the-top encouraging thing… ‘Oh, Yurio, that was so intense, you really made me feel it, that song was a perfect choice for you’ — as if I didn’t fucking choose it because I want both him and his fiancé. And then he said I should use it in competition next season.” Yuri rolls his eyes. “So that got Viktor going with all his stupid nitpicky notes. ‘Oh, Yura, he’s right, that would make a great short program for you, I’ll help you refine the choreography until it’s perfect, and by the way, have you thought about making that quad sal into a combination?’ Fucking oblivious bastard.” 

Chris chuckles.

“I love Viktor, but oblivious bastard is right,” he says. “I don’t think Yuuri is quite as clueless, but when they’re both constantly distracting each other…” 

And _of course_ , Yuri thinks, Chris’ words stinging deep under his skin, _that’s exactly the problem._  When they have each other, they’ll never see how he feels, no matter how hard he tries to make them. Why would they? Their relationship is already perfect without him.

“…you’ll just have to make it more clear what you want,” Chris finishes.

Yuri snorts dismissively.

“I’ll pick a better song next time, then,” he says, voice thick with sarcasm.

Chris shrugs as he opens the door and slides past Yuri into the hallway.

“Or you could just tell them,” he says, leaving Yuri standing there with his mouth gaping open for several moments after he’s gone.                                                       

* * *

Phichit finds him next, trapping him against the lockers with a hand on his shoulder. 

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Plisetsky,” he says, low and threatening, “but if you hurt my best friend _I will kill you._ ” 

Phichit’s face is a little too adorable to be convincingly menacing. And he’s quite a bit shorter than Yuri, which makes their position kind of ridiculous. Yuri would’ve found the whole thing hilarious if it didn’t piss him off so much.

“Leave me alone,” he says, breaking out of Phichit’s hold easily.

“No!” Phichit insists, fist catching in the folds of Yuri’s hoodie. “Not until you explain what was up with that exhibition!” 

Yuri crosses his arms.

“It sounds like you already know,” he grinds out, “so why are you trying to make me say it?”

Phichit’s eyes bore threateningly into Yuri’s.

“You listen to me,” he says. “Yuuri is completely happy with Viktor. The last thing he needs is you being a homewrecker and ruining the best thing that’s ever happened to him.” 

Yuri blinks up at Phichit, stunned.

“It’s one thing to have feelings for Yuuri,” Phichit adds, “but it’s another to go around flaunting them by skating to a song like that.” 

Just like with Chris, Yuri finds himself unable to keep the truth from spilling out of his mouth.

“First of all,” he says, “it’s not just Yuuri, it’s — it’s Viktor, too. I’m not trying to be a homewrecker, I’m just… well, I don’t know what I’m trying to do anymore!” He bangs his fist into the door of his locker. “Every song I skate to goes right over their heads anyway, so why do I bother?” 

Phichit’s face softens as the realization sinks in. Before Yuri knows it, he’s being pulled into a hug.

“What the hell are you doing,” Yuri snarls. But instead of letting go, Phichit tightens his arms around him.

“I’m so sorry, Yuri,” he says. “I know what you’re feeling can’t be easy.” He pulls away but keeps one hand on Yuri’s arm. “Have you tried telling them? In words, not in exhibition skate routines.” 

Yuri sighs.

“No,” he says, “what would be the point? You said it yourself… they’re already happy together, and they don’t need me fucking it up.”

He pushes past Phichit and heads for the door before the bitter tears stinging behind his eyes can fall.

* * *

_Hey Mr. Brightside_ , Yuuri types, _can we take you to dinner to celebrate your win? :)_ He feels a little flutter in his stomach as he presses the button to send the message to Yuri.

On his own phone, Viktor is making a reservation at a new restaurant he’s been dying to try. 

“Phichit and Chris aren’t joining us?” Yuuri asks when he sees Viktor has booked a table for three.

Viktor shakes his head, snickering.

“Mila tricked them into going to that favorite club of hers,” he says. “Which is fine by me, because now we can have some alone time with our kitten.” 

Yuuri’s phone buzzes and they both lean over it in anticipation.

_Already went home,_ Yuri’s response reads. _Headache. See you at practice._

“Oh no,” Yuuri says, exchanging a glance of concern with Viktor. “I hope he’s okay.” 

_I’m sorry,_ Yuuri answers Yuri’s text as Viktor changes their reservation to two. _Do you need us to bring you anything?_

It takes a few minutes for Yuri to reply.

_Just wanna sleep,_ he finally texts back.

“Poor Yura,” Viktor says as he reads the words over Yuuri’s shoulder. “Tell him not to worry about practice for the next few days if he doesn’t feel like it.” 

Yuuri relays the message, then adds a _Feel better soon_ and a cute photo of Makkachin to cheer Yuri up.

They miss him all through dinner. It’s hard not to worry about him, too, but Yuuri tries anyway, telling himself that the best thing they can do right now is let him rest, and that if Yuri needed anything else from them, he would have asked. Yuuri distracts himself by talking with Viktor about Yuri’s glorious season instead, and his chances of making the podium at Europeans and Worlds.

That morphs into a discussion about their fun and relaxing days off with Yuri, which leads to more talk about their feelings for him, which then prompts Viktor to say, “Do you think we should start flirting with him?” 

Yuuri’s cheeks flood with heat at the suggestion.

“I thought we were finishing out the season before we say anything!” 

“Oh, I don’t mean we should _say_ anything,” Viktor amends hastily. “I’m just wondering if we should… you know. Drop a few hints. Maybe see how he responds?” 

“If we try, you have to tell me what to do,” Yuuri says, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so bad at flirting.” 

Viktor cackles out loud at that.

“Not when you get a little champagne in you!” 

“Nooo!” Yuuri groans at the reminder of how he'd behaved at the now-infamous Sochi Grand Prix Final banquet. 

Viktor reaches over and ruffles his hair.

“In fact, out of the two of us, I’d say you’re the much better flirt,” he teases. “I tried so hard to win you over when I first came to Hasetsu, and all I did was scare you away. But your drunk dancing had me hooked from the start!” 

“ _Viktooor!_ ” Yuuri’s face feels like it’s on fire.

“I’m not sure what to try with Yura, though,” Viktor muses as his fingers begin to stroke soothing patterns through Yuuri’s hair. “It’s harder to convey interest when you’re already in a relationship, hmm? It comes across like harmless flirting instead of — you know — _real_ flirting.” His fingertips move down from Yuuri’s scalp to caress the base of his neck. “I would try hugging him more, but half the time when I hug him now, he just shoves me off and says ‘Cut it out, old man.’” 

Yuuri finally looks up, giggling.

“You could always tell him his lips are chapped,” he says, “and then rub some of your lip balm all over them.” 

Viktor snorts with laughter.

“I’m sure _that_ would go over well.” 

“Or you could offer to help with his stretches,” Yuuri continues, grinning wickedly. “It’s too bad we don’t have an onsen here in Saint Petersburg, or you could do it naked.” 

“Oh my God,” Viktor chokes. “Can you imagine?” 

“What, Yurio naked?” Yuuri says innocently. “I don’t know about you, but I imagine that all the time.” 

“Yuuri!” Viktor gasps, now laughing so hard he can barely breathe.

Yuuri manages to keep a straight face for less than half a second before he collapses against Viktor, overcome by his own wave of laughter.

“Seriously,” Viktor says a few minutes later once they’ve managed to calm down. “What should we do?” 

Yuuri hums in thought.

“Did you — did you really mean it when you said my drunk dancing worked?” he asks. “Because… we don’t have to get drunk, but we could always dance with him at the next banquet. More than usual.” 

Their tradition of dancing with him at post-competition banquets started at last year’s Worlds. They’d both noticed Yuri sitting alone looking bored out of his skull, so they swept him out onto the floor. Since the beginning of the season, they’ve made a habit of saving him a dance at every banquet. They always leave him to his own devices after he dances one song with each of them, but now Yuuri wonders what would happen if they kept dancing with him longer.

“Yuuri!” Viktor exclaims. “That’s a great idea!” He leans forward, grasping Yuuri’s hands in excitement. “How about this… we dance with him more than we dance with each other, and see if he notices.” 

Yuuri squeezes Viktor’s hands. 

“Okay,” he says, “let’s do it!” 

* * *

Yuri is back in Lilia’s studio at an ungodly hour the next morning, pushing his muscles to the breaking point. He hadn’t really gotten a headache the night before — unless you count Chris and Phichit — but he can feel one starting now, little flickers of pain at his temples matching the ones pulsing through his legs. As always, he pushes past it and keeps going. It’s at least an hour before Lilia joins him.

“What are you doing here, Yuri?” she asks. “You should be resting the day after a competition.” 

Yuri ignores her along with the screaming ache in his thighs, forcing himself into another split. It’s almost a full minute before he speaks.

“…It didn’t work.” 

Lilia’s brow twists in confusion, then sharpens in understanding.

“Seriously?” She lets out a weary sigh. “Those two imbeciles must be even more thick-headed than I thought.” 

“You have no idea!” Yuri rages. “I got shovel talks from their best friends in the locker room right after my skate, but still nothing from them!” 

Lilia’s normally tight pout quirks upward into a tiny smile.

“Shovel talks?” she says. “Excellent.” 

Yuri stops mid-stretch and stares at her.

“…Huh?” 

“Your idiot coaches may not have noticed what you were trying to do,” Lilia explains, “but someone else did. Two someones. That means it’s only a matter of time before they’ll figure it out, as well.” 

Yuri leans back against the mirrored wall, enjoying its cold press against the sore muscles of his back as he considers her words. _Is she right?_ he wonders. _Is it too soon to give up, after all? Even if they don’t need me… even if they never feel the same way… is it still worth telling them the truth?_

His eyes meet hers in a decisive gaze.

“I guess I’ll just have to pick out an even more obvious song for my next one, then,” he says.

Lilia’s smile grows a fraction wider.

“That’s the spirit.” 

“But what other song is there?” Yuri mutters, mostly to himself. “I thought ‘Mr. Brightside’ was as in-your-face as I could get!” 

Lilia reaches into her bag and pulls out her phone.

“I have an idea,” she says, “but I’m not sure you’re going to like it…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The updated playlist...  
> 1 - [Cake By The Ocean](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHKbaMj8mfI) by DNCE  
> 2 - [Somewhere Only We Know](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASJkHGd8Yfc) by Keane  
> 3 - [Two Heads](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhp2KCqGMZQ) by Coleman Hell (Riddler Remix)  
> 4 - [Mr. Brightside](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1gLGjPFkRA) by The Killers
> 
> Ugh, y'all, I love The Killers SO MUCH, you don't even know. And Mr. Brightside, a song I've been jamming to for years, has taken on a whole new meaning for me with this ship. 
> 
> Feel free to hop on my [fandom Twitter](https://twitter.com/TheTrashiverse) for that quality shipper trash. XD
> 
> Get ready... next chapter is a doozy! And thanks so much for reading this one. I'd love to hear what you thought. :)


	5. Part Of Your World (European Championships, January 2019)

Yuri pops in his earbuds, opens the file Lilia sent him, closes his eyes… and nearly weeps at how perfect it is.

 _How did I not think of this?_ he wonders as the sweeping piano and strings wash over him. _God bless that meddling hag._

He asks her about the arrangement the next day in the studio, where he shows her the choreography he’d started working on as soon as he heard it.

“Where did you find a mix of the song and the reprise?” 

“One of my students commissioned it for a ballet recital years ago,” Lilia tells him. “She decided not to use it, but I held onto it just in case the perfect dancer came along.” She tilts her head at him in amusement. “Or skater.”

“Do you think it will be enough?” he asks. “You know, since it’s instrumental.”

“Everyone knows the words,” Lilia assures him. “They’ll be singing along in their heads even though the vocals aren’t there.”

Yuri nods once and shifts his focus back to the choreography. Her advice has been trustworthy so far… he may as well go all in and keep trusting her now.

Later at the rink, where he maps out the jumps and spins that complete his program, he finds himself filling in the lyrics just as she’d predicted. _What would I give to live where you are?_ his inner voice sings, and he thinks of the days off he’s spent hanging out at Viktor and Yuuri’s apartment, the times those days have stretched into late nights, the way he longs to stay over and wake up there every day forever. _What would I pay to stay here beside you?_ He remembers the first time he’d stood on the podium with both of them, and the bittersweet last, and all the times in between. He can still feel their arms around him, their hands ruffling his hair, their lips breathing words of congratulations against his skin. _What would I do to see you smiling at me?_

It has to work this time. He’ll make sure of it. With every rotation his body makes across the ice, he promises himself that when Yuuri and Viktor see him skate to this song, they’ll finally understand exactly how he feels.

_…And I could be part of your world._

* * *

“Do you see him anywhere?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor’s eyes sweep across the banquet hall a few times, searching but not finding, before he turns them back to his fiancé.

“No, but I’m sure he’s around,” he says, leaning down to kiss Yuuri’s nose. Normally that makes Yuuri giggle, but right now he just looks nervous.

“You don’t think he left already, do you?” Yuuri asks. “It’s been a while since he got separated from us…”

“Don’t worry,” Viktor says, “he just won a gold medal, there’s no way he could have left yet. He’s probably been too swamped with sponsorship offers to move.” He takes Yuuri’s hand and squeezes it reassuringly between his own. “We’ll keep looking for him, but in the meantime… may I have this dance?” 

Yuuri finally smiles at that.

“Always,” he says, leading Viktor out onto the floor.

As usual, they’re the first ones dancing, but it doesn’t take long for others to join them. Viktor’s gaze constantly switches back and forth between Yuuri’s face and the surrounding skaters, and he grins when he notices Yuuri’s doing the same thing.

“I found him!” Yuuri whispers excitedly, about halfway through the song. “Over there in the back.” He leads Viktor through a graceful series of turns, ending so that they’re facing in the opposite directions from where they began. “Do you see him?” 

“Yes,” Viktor says. Yuri is in a lounge chair looking bored and miserable. Mila is draped across the seat next to his, chatting with him animatedly. Viktor snickers under his breath. “Looks like Mila’s trying to make him be sociable.” 

“When are we going to make our move?” Yuuri asks, dipping Viktor as the song comes to a close. Viktor grins and kisses him thoroughly.

“Right now,” he says, and with a final peck to Yuuri’s cheek, he turns around and heads to the other side of the room.

He wills his racing heart to calm down, but it doesn’t do any good. He’s danced with Yuri at plenty of these banquets, but never like _this._ The thought of how the night might play out is both thrilling and terrifying.

A little burst of inspiration strikes the moment he reaches Yuri, and he extends his hand with a flourish. 

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” 

Yuri stares up at him blankly.

“…Huh?” 

The fact that Yuri doesn’t get Viktor’s perfect reference hits him like a blow to the gut, but he smooths over it with a lighthearted laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he says. “I really need to show you ‘Dirty Dancing’ sometime.” 

Yuri’s eyes shoot wide open, and he chokes out, “Show me _what?_ ” 

It takes Viktor’s mind a couple of seconds to catch up to the implication behind Yuri’s words, but when it does, he can’t help but laugh. Mila’s cackling now too, throwing a hand across her forehead.

“It’s a movie, Yura,” she gasps, “get your mind out of the gutter!” 

“Shut up!” Yuri snaps at her, face turning bright red. Viktor wonders if he can make Yuri blush even more.

“If you want some actual dirty dancing,” he says, “then you’ll have to get my fiancé to show you,” and oh, it works _beautifully._ Yuri goes red all the way under his collar. “But for now,” Viktor finishes, “how about a waltz with me?” 

Yuri finally takes Viktor’s outstretched hand and uses it to hoist himself out of the chair. His palm is slightly damp and his grip is more forceful than necessary, but Viktor wouldn’t dream of letting go for the world. He smiles widely as Yuri hauls him toward the dance floor, grumbling, “You’re ridiculous,” under his breath. 

“So,” Viktor says as he gathers Yuri into his arms, “how does it feel to be the European champion?” 

Yuri rolls his eyes.

“Like you don’t know,” he says.

And, okay, he does kind of have a point. But Viktor wants to get him to _talk,_ dammit.

“Just because I’ve been in your shoes before doesn’t mean I know how you feel.” He leans a little further into Yuri’s space. “Tell me.” 

Yuri looks down at the floor for a few moments, brow creased in thought, before he answers.

“It feels like all my hard work means something,” he says. His tone is guarded, and Viktor wishes he could read his mind, find out exactly what it is he’s hiding. In a careful voice, Yuri adds, “It’s… like people are finally seeing me.” 

“Without me to overshadow you?” Viktor asks. 

“That’s not what I said!” Yuri insists, but the implication is as plain as if he’d actually spoken the words.

“It’s what you meant,” Viktor says. 

Yuri sighs, shaking his head.

“Maybe,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong — it’s great, not being constantly compared to you anymore. But… sometimes I wish you were still competing against me. Katsudon, too.” He looks away, frowning. “It would have been nice to beat you face to face today instead of just breaking your record.” 

Viktor notices the tightness in Yuri’s jaw, the way it makes his words come out short and clipped. He offers Yuri a reassuring smile.

“Are you saying you think you might not have won if I’d competed?” he asks. “Come on… you _know_ that’s not true.” 

Yuri levels a challenging glare at him.

“I barely beat you last year,” Viktor continues, “by only three hundredths of a point. _Three hundredths,_ Yura. We both skated clean, flawless programs. It could have just as easily gone in your favor instead.” 

Yuri rolls his eyes.

“The same is true for Worlds,” Viktor says. “You and Yuuri and I had such close scores that we could have ended up in any positions on the podium.” He shakes his head and adds, “But if we were still trying to compete this season? With my knees and Yuuri’s ankles? Forget it! We know you’d kick both our asses.” 

That finally gets the corners of Yuri’s mouth to turn up.

“Ah,” Viktor says, “there’s that lovely smile I haven’t seen in far too long!” The smile immediately disappears, and Viktor wants to kick himself right in his big mouth. “You’ve looked so stressed out all season, Yura,” he’s quick to amend, trying to smooth things over. “I’ve missed seeing you look happy.” 

“This season has just been different, that’s all,” Yuri says. “You know… with you and Katsudon on the sidelines instead of on the ice.” 

Viktor draws Yuri a little closer.

“Yuuri and I will always be there for you,” he says softly, “whether it’s on or off the ice. You understand that, right? We’re here no matter what.” 

Yuri’s eyes burn straight into Viktor’s, sharp and bright, and Viktor can tell he’s holding back so much that he wants to say. But before Viktor can try to coax the words out of him, Yuri swallows hard and presses his lips into a firm line and puts back up every wall that Viktor has spent the last few minutes trying to tear down. Viktor doesn’t know what else to do but pull Yuri into a hug. Yuri freezes in his arms, but for once, he doesn’t try to fight him. After a few seconds, he whispers, “I know,” against Viktor’s cheek, and Viktor squeezes him tighter.

When the song comes to a close, Viktor feels a familiar hand on his shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Yuuri asks, smiling up at both of them as they pull apart.

“He’s all yours,” Viktor says, gently pushing Yuri toward Yuuri’s waiting arms. Yuri glances back and forth between them for a second, confusion creasing his brow, and _oh,_ Viktor realizes, _he must have thought Yuuri wanted to dance with me._ He smiles as Yuri shrugs and takes Yuuri’s hand.

Viktor observes their dance from a few feet away, a fond warmth spreading through his chest at the sight of the two people he loves most holding each other close. They’re exchanging soft words, and even though Viktor can’t hear what they’re saying, he can see Yuri relax as they sway to the music. _Good,_ he thinks. _Yuuri came over at just the right moment._

Viktor feels a twinge of guilt at the way he’d unwittingly stirred up Yuri’s emotions. He hadn’t meant for their conversation to get so serious. _Tonight was supposed to be about flirting,_ he reminds himself as he watches Yuuri smooth a hand through Yuri’s hair. _So from now on, that’s all I’m going to do._

When the song ends, Viktor steps back over and drapes an arm around each of their necks.

“You two keep dancing,” he says, “I’m going to get us some drinks.” 

He picks up three flutes from the champagne table — one for each of them, of course, but he ends up drinking them all himself while he ponders how to flirt with Yuri. If he’s going to be successful next time, he should probably keep his mouth shut and let his body do the talking. _What would Yura do,_ he wonders, _if I dance with him as close as I dance with Yuuri?_

Grinning to himself, Viktor weaves his way back across the room with a fresh round of champagne.

“To the European champion!” he says, pressing glasses into Yuri and Yuuri’s hands and raising his own in a toast.

“To the champion!” Yuuri echoes. “We’re so proud of you, Yurio.”

“Thanks,” Yuri mutters, blushing and downing his champagne in one gulp.

Viktor and Yuuri exchange a look with raised eyebrows at that. Then Viktor shrugs and swallows down the rest of his champagne, too. He doesn’t want Yuri to have a chance to walk away before he can make his move.

“Another dance, Yura?” he asks, and Yuri coughs, face turning even redder.

“What?”  

“Come on,” Viktor says, plucking the empty glass out of Yuri’s hand and taking it in his own. “Yuuri got to dance with you twice — it’s only fair!”

Yuri stares openly at Viktor, brows drawn over wide eyes. He glances at their joined hands almost suspiciously before turning that challenging gaze back at Viktor’s face.

Then he shrugs and says, “Okay.”  

Viktor doesn’t give him another second to think. He twirls Yuri around and pulls him flush against his body, delighting in the tiny sound of surprise that escapes Yuri’s mouth. Yuri is a little stiff as they begin to dance, but he doesn’t pull away. _So far, so good._

The song that’s playing happens to be ‘Cheek to Cheek,’ and Viktor can’t help but grin because that’s exactly how they’re dancing right now. Or sometimes nose to nose depending on the way they angle their heads when Viktor leads them through a turn. Every brush of Yuri’s face sends chills across his skin. It’s exhilarating. Yuri is close enough to kiss. If this were the off-season already, Viktor would try it.

He settles for turning his lips toward Yuri’s ear instead, softly singing along with the music.

“ _Heaven… I’m in heaven…_ ” 

“Oh my God,” Yuri scoffs, “you are so fucking cheesy.” 

“But you looove iiit,” Viktor teases.

Yuri doesn’t deny it, and Viktor could swear the sigh he heaves is almost fond.

He ends their dance by spinning Yuri around and dipping him low to the floor. Yuri slides down easily, arching his back and extending his leg up past Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor giggles, holding their pose for a few seconds before pulling Yuri back up. 

With one hand cupping the back of his neck, he softly pecks Yuri’s cheek. 

“Thank you, Yurachka.” 

Yuri steps back, bright red and breathless.

“I — I need a break,” he says, stumbling out of the banquet hall. 

_Well,_ Viktor thinks, warm amusement spreading through his chest,  _it looks like our dance had an effect on him. And me, too._ He brings a hand to his face, lightly skimming his fingers over the spot where Yuri’s cheek had rested. 

Viktor’s smile grows wider when a familiar pair of arms embrace him from behind.

“Yuuri!” He reaches down and threads their fingers together.

“Where did Yurio go?” Yuuri asks, hooking his chin over Viktor’s shoulder. “I hope you didn’t scare him away.” 

“I might have overwhelmed him a bit with my charms,” Viktor admits, and Yuuri rolls his eyes affectionately. “But he’ll be back.” 

“Do you want to dance while we wait?” Yuuri asks, offering his hand. 

Viktor takes it and echoes Yuuri’s answer from earlier, “Always.” 

Yuuri rests his head against Viktor’s shoulder as they move to the slow beat, the sweet, simple gesture making Viktor’s heart swell with joy. He presses his lips to Yuuri’s forehead. 

“You know,” he whispers, “I bet Yura would let you do this, too. He let me get this close to him when we were dancing.” 

Yuuri’s voice comes out hushed with shock and hope.

“Really?” 

“Yes,” Viktor says. “And he blushed so beautifully, too.” He smirks at the way that gets _Yuuri_ blushing. “You should try it. Tell him how nice it is that he’s so tall now, or something, and then lean on his shoulder. You two would look so cute that way.” 

“I can’t do _that!_ ” Yuuri yelps. “It’s way too obvious!” 

“Come on,” Viktor purrs, “I dare you.” He squeezes Yuuri’s hand. “Now you have to do it.” 

“Viktor…” 

At that moment, Viktor spots Yuri on the other side of the room — dancing with Chris, of all people. They’re talking, and while Chris is laughing, Yuri’s tense expression makes it clear that they’re arguing about something. Perhaps it has something to do with how low Chris’ hand is drifting down Yuri’s backside. A hot spike of anger cuts up Viktor’s spine.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, turning them so they can both see, “it looks like our kitten is in need of a rescue.” 

Yuuri nods firmly, and they hurry in Yuri’s direction.

“You get Yura,” Viktor whispers in Yuuri’s ear, “I’ll deal with — Chris!” he exclaims, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder and steering him toward the champagne table. “Come have a drink with me!” As they walk away, Viktor glances back over his shoulder and catches Yuuri’s eye as he’s pulling Yuri in for a dance. Viktor throws him a wink and a thumbs up, and Yuuri beams back.

After he’s distracted Chris with champagne, Viktor works his way back to Yuuri and Yuri. Yuuri is dancing with his head on Yuri’s shoulder, and Yuri is looking down at him with soft eyes and blazing cheeks, and it’s even more adorable than Viktor had imagined.

The next song starts up with a lively blast of trumpets and drums, and without missing a beat, Yuuri lifts his head and turns Yuri around — straight into Viktor’s arms.

“Wha — ” Yuri splutters, but Viktor cuts him off with an enthusiastic, “Dance with me!” 

When Viktor starts leading him into the steps, Yuri stumbles, barely catching himself from colliding with Viktor’s chest. Not that Viktor would have minded, of course.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

Yuri glares down at their feet.

“…I don’t know this dance,” he admits, almost too quietly to hear.

“Oh!” Viktor says. “It’s easy…” 

“We’ll show you,” Yuuri adds, stepping in behind Yuri and sliding his hands around his hips. Yuri inhales sharply, his whole body going rigid in Viktor’s hold. “Relax,” Yuuri murmurs against Yuri’s neck, and Viktor feels a tiny fraction of the tension leave his frame.

They guide Yuri through the steps, Yuuri whispering directions in his ear and Viktor giving him smiles of encouragement. The three of them move together like that for the rest of the song, Yuuri still holding onto Yuri long after he’s mastered the basic moves. 

For the next few hours, they all stay out on the floor, trading off partners effortlessly with dips and turns, often mid-song. Sometimes they dance in a cluster, laughing and singing along whenever a familiar song comes on. Every so often, Viktor goes to get them more champagne. At some point they shed their jackets and ties, and dancing becomes much more comfortable with collars unbuttoned and shirtsleeves rolled up.

By the time the banquet winds down, they’re a disheveled, hot mess. _Emphasis on ‘hot,’_ Viktor thinks, shamelessly ogling the gorgeous sheen of sweat on Yuri’s skin. 

Viktor and Yuuri leave the hall with Yuri sandwiched between them, arms curled around his waist. Yuri doesn’t touch either of them, warily glancing between their faces before shoving his hands in his pockets, but he makes no move to get away. They walk through the hotel lobby and pile into the elevator together, slumping against the back wall for the ride up.

When they reach Yuri’s floor, Viktor presses a firm kiss to his cheek, and hears Yuuri do the same on his other side.

“Good night, kitten!” Viktor calls, waving to Yuri through the closing door.

“See you at the gala tomorrow!” Yuuri adds. 

As soon as they’re alone, Yuuri grabs Viktor by the collar and hauls him in for a wet, filthy kiss. Viktor responds instantly, winding his arms around Yuuri and licking into the heat of his eager mouth. They don’t pull apart until they hear the elevator ding for their floor.

“Couldn’t wait until we got back to the room?” Viktor laughs breathlessly as Yuuri leads him down the hallway.

“No,” Yuuri says firmly, and damn if that doesn’t go straight to Viktor’s cock. Yuuri’s gazing at him the same way he used to when he skated his ‘Eros’ routine. “All that dancing with Yurio got me too worked up to hold back.” 

Viktor hoists Yuuri up against the wall next to their hotel room door.

“You too, hmm?” he rumbles in Yuuri’s ear before sucking a bruising kiss onto the side of his neck. Yuuri wraps his legs tightly around Viktor’s waist and draws him in closer, hands tangling in his hair as he grinds their hardening cocks together. Viktor supports Yuuri’s weight with one hand while the other searches frantically for their key card. When he finally gets the door open, they practically throw themselves over the threshold.

“You have no idea how hard it was to resist doing this with Yura tonight,” Viktor says, capturing Yuuri’s lips in another kiss. 

“Same — _aah!_ — same for me,” Yuuri pants into Viktor’s mouth.

Viktor sucks Yuuri’s lower lip between his teeth and nibbles it gently.

“How long until the off-season again?” he asks.

“Two months,” Yuuri answers.

Viktor jerks back from the kiss, eyes flying wide open.

“Two _months_?” 

“Vitya,” Yuuri says, “Vitya, it’s okay…” He leans in close and licks a hot, teasing trail from the base of Viktor’s neck all the way up to his earlobe. Viktor moans at the sensation — then cries out sharply when Yuuri’s hands grip his ass. “…I can think of plenty of ways to keep ourselves busy in the meantime.” 

* * *

“Beka,” Yuri says breathlessly into his phone. “ _Holy shit._ ” 

He’d wanted to call last night straight after the banquet, but forced himself to wait until the next day, when the three-hour time difference between Minsk and Almaty wouldn’t matter so much. He’d barely slept at all, too keyed up from dancing with Yuuri and Viktor to do anything but toss and turn and jerk off and scream into his pillow as the hours ticked by.

“I know,” Otabek says, and although his voice is as calm as always, Yuri can hear the smile in it. “European champion and new free skate world record holder? Congratulations — ” 

“No, no, not that,” Yuri cuts him off impatiently. “It’s about Viktor and Yuuri.” 

“Oh,” Otabek says, surprised. “Did something happen?” 

“I… think so?” Yuri flops back on his hotel bed and throws an arm across his eyes. “They danced with me at the banquet last night, a _lot_ , and I don’t know what that means. But I think it’s good.” 

“So this was different than usual?” Otabek asks.

“Yeah,” Yuri breathes. “You know how they always dance with me for one song at every banquet? This went on _all night._ And — and they both got really close to me.” His face grows warm at the memory of Viktor’s cheek against his, Yuuri’s head on his shoulder, both of them pressing him between their bodies. When he closes his eyes, he can still feel the sensations. “It was like,” he swallows, “it was like we were all there… _together._ ” 

“Hmm,” Otabek says.

“And they kissed me good night,” Yuri continues, one fist gripping the edge of his pillowcase. “Just on the cheek, so it probably didn’t mean anything, but… they’ve never done that before? So I don’t know.”

He blows out a breath.

“They can be pretty physical,” he clarifies. “Like, they hug me and shit all the time. Especially now that they keep making me spend my days off at their place. But last night was over the top, even for them.”

Otabek is silent for a moment.

“Have you talked to them about it?” he asks.

“No,” Yuri says, “I haven’t even seen them yet today.” He gulps and licks his lips. “But I will later, at the gala.” 

“And you’re doing another song for them?” Otabek says. 

“Yes,” Yuri responds, stomach quivering with anticipation. 

“So depending on what they say,” Otabek muses thoughtfully, “maybe you’ll have your answer.” 

Yuri’s jaw tightens against the wave of fear that threatens to gush out of his mouth. 

“You’re right,” he says instead. “I’d better go so I can get in one more practice.” 

“Good luck,” Otabek says. “I’ll be watching the livestream.” 

Yuri heads to the rink alone, hoping that it won’t be crowded at such an early hour. He ends up being only one of three skaters there — the pairs silver medalists are working on a few of their lifts on one side of the rink. Yuri stuffs in his earbuds and skates out to the empty portion of the ice to run through his new exhibition program one more time.

He’s worked on this one enough with Lilia that he doesn’t really need the extra practice. But it grounds his uneasy nerves after the banquet, quiets the storm of emotion Yuuri and Viktor stirred up inside him. The music casts a bright, glittering shine over his memories from the night before, and by the time he whirls into his final combination spin, his confusion has morphed into confidence. _I don’t know when_ , he supplies the words in his mind, _I don’t know how… but I know something’s starting right now…_  And deep in his bones, it feels like the truth.

Later that evening, Viktor and Yuuri greet him at the gala with hugs, and Yuri tries not to think about whether they hold him tighter than usual. 

“Look at you!” Viktor exclaims, trailing his hands down Yuri’s arms as he takes in the sight of his costume. “So sparkly! I love it!” 

And indeed, Yuri is shinier than a disco ball in his fully sequined jumpsuit. He’d actually gotten it from Mila, who had walked in on one of his practice sessions and overheard his song choice. In exchange for her secrecy, he’d agreed to let her choose his outfit, and she’d shown up the next day with a stage costume borrowed from one of her drag queen friends. He’d almost backed out of their deal at the sight of it, but she’d insisted that it was the perfect “mermaid chic” for his music, and he couldn’t deny it. Besides, the ombré of color, from pale aqua to rich turquoise to deep black, really brought out the green of his eyes.

And now, Yuuri and Viktor are eating it up, which is what really matters.

“You look beautiful, Yurio,” Yuuri smiles, squeezing his hands. “I can’t wait to see your program.” 

Yuri locks eyes with each of them as the announcer calls his name, then takes off for the center of the ice.

A murmur of recognition ripples through the crowd as his music begins, and Yuri allows a rare, genuine smile to reach his lips. He’d always practiced this skate with an expression of pure longing, but now it’s infused with a ripple of joy. As he moves through each part of the choreography, memories from the banquet flash through his mind.

_Triple axel_ — Yuuri’s soft fingers skimming through his hair as they sway back and forth. _Quad salchow-double loop_ — Viktor pulling him in for a dance, wrapping warm arms around him and holding him close. _Step sequence followed by a flying sit spin_ — Standing in the elevator pressed between Viktor and Yuuri, heart pounding as they lean in to kiss his cheeks. He glides through every motion with those phantom touches fueling him.

Before his final combination spin, his eyes find theirs again, willing them to understand what he’s been trying to show them all along. _Watch and you’ll see_ , his heart sings as his body swirls round and round, _someday I’ll be part of your world!_

He knows the audience must be cheering as he takes his final pose, but he can barely hear them over the roar of his own pulse in his ears. Face hot and hands shaking, he takes his bows, then heads back to join Viktor and Yuuri at the boards.

As always, they open their arms to embrace him, and for once, Yuri squeezes them back just as tightly. He keeps an arm hooked around each of their necks as he pulls back to meet their eyes.

“Yurio,” Yuuri says, “please, _please_ tell me you’ll turn that into a program for next season. That was incredible.” 

Yuri huffs out a nervous laugh.

“That’s what you said about my last exhibition.” 

“So?” Viktor says. “One for your short program, one for your free program. Problem solved!” He runs a hand up Yuri’s back to grip his shoulder. “Yuuri is right, you know,” he says. “That was truly spectacular, Yura.” 

“Thank you,” Yuri says quietly. “I’ll think about it.” 

His gaze darts between theirs anxiously. _Why haven’t they said anything about my music?_ he wonders. 

As if reading Yuri’s mind, Yuuri says, “I can’t believe how well that song worked for you!” Yuri’s heart slams harder than ever inside his chest as he waits for whatever is next — a question about his feelings? A confession? A… kiss?

But it never comes.

“It was so unexpected,” Yuuri says, “but such a perfect fit!” 

_No_ , Yuri thinks, cold dread seeping into his stomach. _No. Please no. Not again_.

“It was genius!” Viktor gushes. “That arrangement was sublime, and you interpreted it so beautifully.” He grins and adds, “You’ve gone from the Russian Punk to the Russian Princess!” 

To his horror, Yuri feels the sting of tears behind his eyes. His arms drop down from Viktor and Yuuri’s shoulders to hang limply at his sides. His insides feel hollow and empty as the realization rolls over him like a wave.

They still don’t understand.

Yuri wants to scream. _I didn’t choose that song because I was trying to be a princess!_ he rages at them inside his head. _I literally want to be part of your world! How many more fucking ways do I have to say it?_ He balls his hands into fists, holding back his tears from falling by sheer force of will.

He follows Yuuri and Viktor to the stands in a daze. The rest of the exhibition gala passes in a blur that he can barely remember. He’s only aware that it’s over when Yuuri motions him toward the exit.

“Our flight home isn’t until tomorrow night,” Viktor says as they leave the rink. “Is there anything you want to see while we’re still here in Minsk?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri smiles, “what would you like to do to celebrate your win?” 

Yuri’s jaw clenches as he fights a fresh wave of tears. He turns away before either of them can see.

“…Nothing.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the playlist, we're now up to...  
> 1 - [Cake By The Ocean](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHKbaMj8mfI) by DNCE  
> 2 - [Somewhere Only We Know](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASJkHGd8Yfc) by Keane  
> 3 - [Two Heads](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhp2KCqGMZQ) by Coleman Hell (Riddler Remix)  
> 4 - [Mr. Brightside](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1gLGjPFkRA) by The Killers  
> 5 - [Part Of Your World (+ Reprise)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hARBBFT-9Ao) from Disney's The Little Mermaid
> 
> So the exact version of Yuri's Part Of Your World arrangement, with both the full song and the reprise woven together, only exists in my head. But the link above is pretty damn close to what I had in mind... just imagine it as a piano and strings instrumental version instead. :)
> 
> Viktor references the film Dirty Dancing at the banquet, and if you've never seen it, I HIGHLY encourage you to check it out. I thought about using [Hungry Eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iy9nVAxh6OI) from its soundtrack as one of Yuri's exhibition songs in this fic. (And was my scene with Viktor and Yuuri on either side of Yuri teaching him dance steps shamelessly ripped off from Johnny and Penny doing that with Baby in this movie? Oh ho ho, indeed it was.) 
> 
> The song that Viktor sings along with in Yuri's ear is [Cheek To Cheek](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzSxvyX3QfA) by Ella Fitzgerald. (There are tons of wonderful versions of this jazz classic out there, but this is one of my favorites.)
> 
> As always, I invite you to join me on my [fandom Twitter](https://twitter.com/TheTrashiverse) for trash shipping funtimes.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter... thanks for reading, and please let me know what you thought! Next chapter is another long one, and you're in for a wild ride. Prepare yourselves. ;P


	6. Wrecking Ball (World Championships, March 2019)

“To the world champion!” 

“To Yuri!” 

“Cheers!” 

Yuri raises his glass and clinks it against the others’ with a sigh, going through the motions one more time. He tries to force his grimace into something resembling a smile.

After the spectacular failure of his exhibition at Europeans, Yuri had barely been in the mood to think about Worlds. He’d toyed around with a few ideas for the gala — an overly angsty routine to ‘Dancing On My Own’ and a pathetically mournful one to ‘Hallelujah’ — but they were both half-assed and he knew it. Besides, what was the point of choreographing yet another skate that would just go over Yuuri and Viktor’s heads? So Yuri spent his time focusing on his short program and free skate instead, since those were clearly all that mattered. 

He’d also tried to start detangling himself from Viktor and Yuuri… which was, of course, impossible. Between practice days at the rink and rest days at their apartment (which they still insisted on, dammit), Yuri remained as hooked as ever. It had taken every ounce of willpower to turn down their invitation to celebrate his nineteenth birthday with them, and spend it in Moscow with his grandpa instead. 

He doesn’t regret his decision, though. Surely a birthday party with Yuuri and Viktor would have gone the same way as the banquet after Europeans… a night of hope followed by a slap in the face from reality.

Now he’s supposed to be celebrating the biggest win of his career… but that’s the last thing he feels like doing.

As soon as he gets a chance to ditch the well-wishers clamoring to congratulate him, he escapes to a quiet corner of the banquet hall and slumps into a lounge chair.

Otabek finds him ten minutes later.

“Hey,” he says, taking the sofa across from Yuri. “What are you hiding from?” 

“What do you think?” Yuri grumbles.

“Not your coaches, I hope,” Otabek says, fixing Yuri with a serious look. “They just asked me where you were. They want to dance with you.” 

Yuri rolls his eyes.

“Of fucking course they do.” 

“Isn’t that what you want?” Otabek asks.

“No,” Yuri whispers, even though his insides are screaming _yes._ “Not after the way it turned out last time.” 

Otabek’s brow twists.

“Yuri,” he says, “if you would just talk to them — ” 

“I can’t, Beka,” Yuri snaps. “Don’t you understand? If I tell them straight out, I risk losing them completely — not to mention damaging what they have with each other — and I just can’t do that. They’re too important to me.” He swallows. “These exhibition songs have been my way of testing the waters,” he says. “But I’ve done five different ones and I’ve gotten nothing back. So…” He lets out a breath, voice turning small. “…I think I have my answer.” 

Otabek opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get a word out, Yuri hears a familiar voice.

“Yurio!” 

_Shit_.

“There you are!” Yuuri says, flinging his arms around Yuri from behind. “Viktor and I have been looking all over for you!”

“Sorry,” Yuri mumbles. “I got overwhelmed from all the attention, so I came back here to take a break.” 

Otabek shoots him a disbelieving glare.

“We want to congratulate you properly,” Yuuri says. His hands are still on Yuri’s shoulders, rubbing them gently. “Do you want to come dance with us, or would you rather relax some more and have a drink first?” 

Yuri squeezes his eyes shut, trying his hardest not to melt under Yuuri’s calming touch. He fails, of course, just like always. And he knows that dancing will only make things worse.

But Yuuri has offered him another, much more appealing option. So Yuri finally stands up and turns to face him.

“A drink sounds fucking perfect.” 

* * *

Viktor grabs Yuri’s arm in one hand and Yuuri’s in the other and starts dragging them toward a brightly lit building.

“Ooh!” he squeals. “Can we go in there?” 

“Isn’t that a club?” Yuri asks warily.

“Yes!” Viktor says. “That’s the point! We didn’t get to dance at the banquet, so now’s our chance!” 

_We didn’t get to dance at the banquet on purpose,_ Yuri thinks, biting back a groan. He had very carefully sidestepped their requests to join them on the floor, suggesting another round of champagne whenever they asked.

The plan had been to get wasted so he wouldn’t have to deal with another banquet of Viktor and Yuuri jerking his feelings around. But the champagne hadn’t been enough to get him tipsy, much less drunk. 

“I wish they had something stronger,” he’d muttered to himself as he downed another glass, and for some reason, Viktor decided that meant they should go find it themselves.

“Yuuri!” he giggled, draping himself shamelessly across both their laps. “Can you take us out and help us find some sake?” 

So they’d ditched the banquet and wound up in a cozy bar in downtown Saitama, where the sake finally did the trick. Hanging out with Yuuri and Viktor was actually pleasant when Yuri was warm and happy and too drunk to think about how much he longed for them. All things considered, it was an enjoyable evening — much more fun than if they’d stayed and sipped more champagne, or (God forbid) danced. 

The trouble had started when the three of them were walking back to the hotel, hanging onto each other for balance. Viktor got distracted by the glowing lights of the club and started pulling them toward it. And now, Yuuri is apparently too wasted to have any common sense left, because instead of telling Viktor it’s a bad idea, he giggles and says, “Yeah! Let’s go!” 

_God_ , Yuri thinks, _I am so fucked._

He throws back a couple of shots when they first walk in, fueling himself for the hell he’s about to be subjected to. And it’s far worse than he’d feared, pressed up to Viktor and Yuuri on the dance floor. Viktor enthusiastically grinds his hips into Yuri’s ass, hands hooked firmly around his waist. Yuuri is facing him, their foreheads almost touching as he brazenly rolls his pelvis against Yuri’s leg.

Another inch to the left and he’ll find out just how hard Yuri is, even after all that alcohol. Yuri tries to shift to give himself more space, but Yuuri drapes his arms over his shoulders and locks them around Viktor’s neck, trapping Yuri between them.

They dance that way for what feels like hours. At first Yuri wishes they’d stayed at the banquet after all — at least the dancing would have been nice, safe ballroom numbers and ballads, not… _this._ But as the night goes on, he enjoys himself more and more, drowning in the sensations of Yuuri and Viktor writhing against every inch of his body. He reaches back and buries one hand in Viktor’s hair, then wraps the other around the back of Yuuri’s neck, pulling them both closer.

Yuuri is the first to lose his shirt, and when it happens, Yuri immediately rips his off too, eager to feel all that damp, smooth skin touching his own. Not to be outdone, Viktor strips out of his shirt _and_ pants, and Yuri moans at how much better he can feel the firm length of Viktor’s cock against his ass. Yuuri slides a hand down Yuri’s chest, fingertips catching over his nipple, and Yuri shivers, thrusting uncontrollably into Yuuri’s hips.

“Is this what Viktor meant when he said you could show me some dirty dancing?” Yuri says before he can stop himself. Yuuri just looks at him blankly.

“Yes,” Viktor laughs in his ear, voice low and seductive. “That’s exactly what I meant. But you need to ask him in English.” 

Yuri’s eyes widen. When had he slipped back into Russian?

“Sorry,” he giggles, hopefully in the right language this time, bumping his nose to Yuuri’s forehead. “Hey,” he adds, a brilliant idea hitting him, “you should say something in Japanese that I can’t understand — then we’ll be even!” 

Yuuri meets his eyes with a fiery gaze, then leans up and whispers a series of unfamiliar words into his other ear. He lets his mouth linger there for a moment, then pulls back and smirks. Yuri has no idea what he just said, but his tone was absolutely filthy. 

This is the best fucking night of Yuri’s _life._

He’s not sure when they leave the club or how they get their clothes back on. All he knows is that he wants to stroll through downtown Saitama with Viktor and Yuuri at his sides forever. They’re all holding each other up, trying not to stumble and laughing when they do. Yuri is pretty sure this is the drunkest he’s ever been, and he has absolutely no complaints.

Especially not with the way Viktor clings to him, resting his head on his shoulder, and Yuuri grips his hand between both of his own.

“My muscles are going to be so sore tomorrow from all that dancing,” Viktor laments, and Yuri groans in agreement.

“And you even have to skate tomorrow!” Yuuri says, squeezing his hand and blinking up at him in concern.

“Oh! I have an idea!” Viktor crows, and Yuri grins. All of Viktor’s ideas tonight have been amazing. “Let’s go to a hot spring!” 

“ _Yes,_ ” Yuri says emphatically, ignoring the way the ground sways when he nods. “We should… we should do that.” 

“I don’t think we’re going to find any hot spring resorts open this late,” Yuuri says, but Viktor is insistent.

“Google it!” he says, shoving his phone into Yuuri’s hand.

“You Google it!” Yuuri teases, pushing the phone back toward Viktor.

“I caaaaan’t,” Viktor whines, “I’m too drunk!”

Yuuri shakes his head, but he pulls out his own phone and complies. After a few minutes of searching for an onsen while trying to walk — which results him him almost falling several times — he finally lets out a noise of surprise.

“I think I found one,” he says, turning the screen so they both can see. He’s holding the phone upside-down, but it doesn’t matter since they can’t read kanji anyway. “If I’m reading their hours right, they’re open all night.” 

“Told you!” Viktor cries out in triumph, nearly knocking them over with the fist he pumps. “Let’s go!” 

With Yuuri’s phone navigating them, they eventually find it. Yuri has no recollection of arriving or taking off his clothes, but he ends up in a shower with Viktor and Yuuri, swaying woozily as they all wash each other’s backs. Then he’s sinking down into the steaming water of the spring, an unabashed sigh of pleasure escaping his lips.  

Yuuri and Viktor join him a moment later. Viktor stretches his arms high above his head, then lets them settle around Yuuri’s shoulders.

“Viktor,” Yuuri complains, shrugging out from under him and scooting a few feet away. “Too hot.” 

Viktor lets out a whine of protest, shoulders slumping. His eyes brighten again when he turns toward Yuri.

“Yura!” he says, flinging his arms wide. “Cuddle me!” 

And how the hell can Yuri say no to _that?_

He wades over to Viktor and settles in next to him, leaning heavily against his side. Viktor wraps both arms around Yuri’s waist and rests their temples together. He lets out a hum of contentment, the sound sending chills coursing along Yuri’s spine.

“Okay,” Yuuri says a few minutes later, shuffling through the water to join them. “You two look so cute, I can’t resist.” 

Viktor opens his arms and Yuuri slips between them, tilting his head back against the place where Viktor and Yuri’s shoulders are joined. Viktor lays his free arm across Yuuri’s middle, and Yuri does the same.

“Whoa,” Yuuri says, grabbing Yuri’s forearm between his wet palms. “You are _tense._ ” 

“You really are,” Viktor agrees. He reaches up to squeeze the juncture of Yuri’s neck and shoulder. “You did stretch after your skate today, right?” 

“You were there!” Yuri snorts.

“Sorry,” Viktor shrugs. “Drunk.” 

“Do you need a massage, Yurio?” Yuuri asks, and Yuri should probably be embarrassed by how quickly he chokes out, “ _Please._ ”  

Yuuri gently turns him so that he’s fully facing Viktor, who pulls him forward into an embrace. He barely has time to angle his hips so his cock won’t brush against Viktor before he feels Yuuri’s hands on him, and _holy shit_. His head falls heavily onto Viktor’s shoulder as Yuuri works the tightness from his neck with firm, expert touches. He moans openly when Viktor’s hands join in, sliding down to press and squeeze his glutes.

_This is how I die,_ he thinks, panting into the crook of Viktor’s neck. _RIP Yuri Plisetsky. Cause of death: tag-team massage by the sexiest men alive._

By the time they’re finished, Yuri is boneless and shivering. He whimpers when their hands leave him, skin aching for more contact.

“Would you like us to take care of your legs too?” Yuuri asks, and as much as Yuri would kill for that, some part of his plastered mind is still aware it’s a terrible idea.

“If you massage my legs, I won’t be able to walk back to the hotel,” Yuri says. _I won’t be able to hide my erection,_ is what he means. “My back and arms feel like jelly.”

“Fair enough,” Yuuri giggles. “Speaking of walking back… we probably should. It’s really late.” 

“Nooooo,” Viktor groans, pulling Yuri in tighter. “Don’t wanna move.” 

“Come on, Vitya,” Yuuri sighs, tugging on one of Viktor’s arms. “We need to get back. Yurio has to skate tomorrow.”

“But I already skated tonight,” Yuri grumbles, not wanting to leave Viktor’s warmth either. 

Yuuri shakes his head with a fond smile, ignoring their protests as he steers them toward the edge of the spring where they’d left their towels.

He must have helped them out of the water and back into their clothes, because now they’re on the street again, stumbling along after him.

Yuri can barely see where he’s going, much less walk. He’s relying entirely on Yuuri and Viktor to keep him on his feet, and they’re not doing much better. Yuuri is bravely leading the way with his phone’s GPS, but he keeps tripping every time he looks at the screen. Viktor just clings to whatever parts of their bodies he can reach. Yuri anchors himself between them, looping an arm around each of their necks.

The motion throws them all off-balance, and for one dangerous second, they topple toward the pavement. It’s Yuuri who stops them, fingers tightening around Yuri’s waist as he digs in his heels.

“Whoa!” he laughs, “Yurio, how drunk are you?” 

“I’m not drunk,” Yuri replies automatically. He teeters on his next step and backtracks a little, “I mean — not that drunk. Just a little.”

“Yeah, okay,” Yuuri says.

“I’m Russian,” Yuri insists. “We know how to hold our liquor. Right, Viktor?” 

“What?” Viktor says.

Yuuri shakes his head.

The next thing Yuri knows, they’re dragging each other out of the hotel elevator and staggering toward his room. Everything is spinning — the only thing stable is Viktor and Yuuri’s strong grip around his middle. Viktor keeps nuzzling into his hair, and Yuuri plays with the fingers of his free hand, and they’re both _so warm_. Yuri doesn’t want to leave them.

“Do you have your room key?” Yuuri asks, and Yuri wishes he’d lost it between removing his shirt at the club and stripping off everything at the onsen. Then maybe he could spend the night in Yuuri and Viktor’s room. But no, of course it has to be right there in his pocket. He pulls it out with a sigh.

He tries several times to insert it in the card reader on the door, only for Viktor laugh and take it.

“No, no,” he says, waving it in front of the sensor, “this is the magic kind, remember?” 

Once they have the door unlocked, they wrestle with the handle together while Yuuri stands back and watches.

“You two are ridiculous,” he snickers. 

“Shut up and help us, then, Katsudon,” Yuri tries to snap back, but his voice comes out sweet and sleepy and ruins the effect.

“That door is heavier than it looks,” Viktor adds.

Yuuri finally takes pity on them and opens it, ushering Yuri inside with one hand and propping himself upright against the doorframe with the other. Viktor does the same on the other side of the door. Both of them look at Yuri with concern.

“Are you going to be okay, Yura?” Viktor asks.

“What do you mean, is he going to be okay?” Yuuri says to Viktor. “We can’t leave him like this… we need to at least get some water in him first.” 

Yuri’s not particularly thirsty, but he lets Yuuri and Viktor pour him a glass of water and hold it up to his lips. (Well, mostly Yuuri — Viktor tries to help, but he’s pretty far gone and looks like he could use some water himself.) They both keep their arms loosely draped around him, making sure he doesn’t lose his balance while he drains his glass.

Several refills later, Yuri doesn’t feel any less drunk, but Yuuri seems satisfied that he’s all right. 

“We’ll let you sleep now,” he says softly, taking Viktor’s arm and dragging him to the door. 

“For as long as you need to,” Viktor nods. “The gala doesn’t start until late.” 

They open their arms for a hug, and Yuri steps into it heavily, clinging to both of them as hard as he can. 

“Good night, Yurio,” Yuuri smiles, running a hand through his hair.

Viktor leans in close and whispers, “Sweet dreams, kitten.” 

“See you tomorrow,” Yuri mutters, heart clenching. He doesn’t know how to tell them that he wishes they would stay.

So he grabs Viktor’s face and kisses him. 

Then he turns his head and presses his lips to Yuuri’s, too.

When he pulls back, they’re both standing there frozen, gazing at him with wide, searching eyes. Their faces are flushed and trembling. Viktor’s mouth falls open, and Yuuri reaches up with one hand to cover his, and Yuri suddenly realizes that’s where he’d just put his own mouth and _oh God._

The weight of what he’s done hits him full-force, knocking the breath out of him like he’s fallen on the ice. 

He _kissed_ them.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen at all, probably, but especially not on a drunken whim. What was he  _thinking?_ Now he’s ruined everything — his friendship with them, his chances for more, and probably even their relationship with each other.

They’re still staring at him in raw, unfiltered shock, and Yuri doesn’t know what the fuck he’s supposed to do.

So he slams the door in their faces. 

* * *

Yuri wakes up feeling like death.

The hangover isn’t so bad — nothing a hot shower and some painkillers can’t fix. It’s the memory of last night that has him feeling like heading to his own funeral.

He still can’t believe what he’s done. He may have been wasted, but that’s no excuse for such a colossal mistake. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to face Viktor and Yuuri now. Or ever. 

Yuri thinks about skipping the gala tonight. He doesn’t know what he would perform, anyway… either of the new routines he’s been working on would just feel wrong now. _Especially_ with the outfit he’d brought. He’d stuffed the sequined mermaid costume in his bag, too, in case he needed to fall back on ‘Part Of Your World.’ But that would honestly be even worse.

He knows it would look terrible for the world champion to miss the exhibition, and that as his coaches, Yuuri and Viktor would be disappointed. But maybe, as his friends, they would understand.

If they even still _are_ his friends.

Yuri rolls over and checks his phone. It’s almost noon — later than he can remember sleeping in years, but earlier than he’d expected after last night. He has several texts from Viktor and Yuuri, and his finger trembles over the screen as he debates whether to read them. In the end, he chickens out and opens his conversation with Otabek instead.

_Beka,_ he types, _help._

He falls back onto the pillow and closes his eyes, phone still clutched loosely in his hand. It vibrates with a new message a few minutes later.

_What do you need?_

* * *

Otabek is waiting for him right outside the elevators. 

“Did you just wake up?” he asks, eyes darting over Yuri’s disheveled appearance, and Yuri scowls. “I figured you would have already been at the rink practicing.” 

“I’m not skating tonight,” Yuri says tightly. “Not unless you know of any songs that can help me say ‘I’m sorry I kissed you both and fucked up your relationship.’” 

Otabek’s eyes grow huge.

“Yuri,” he says, “what the hell did you do?” 

They find a quiet cafe near the hotel, and Yuri spends the next hour spilling his guts to Otabek over lunch. Throughout the course of his mortifying tale, Otabek’s normally stoic face goes through a whole range of expressions Yuri has never seen. By the time he’s finished, Yuri is slumped down in his seat, buried as deep inside his hoodie as possible — which used to be a lot easier before he got so tall, he realizes with a grimace.

“So you see why I can’t go to the gala tonight,” he says, gaze fixed on his lap.

“Are you sure?” Otabek asks. “Because I think I have the perfect song for you.” 

Yuri glances up, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re going to hate me for it,” Otabek says, sliding his phone across the table face-up. “But it works.” 

And he’s right — Yuri shoots him a glare the moment he sees the title and artist displayed on the screen. But as he scrolls through the lyrics, he can’t deny how well the song fits the giant hole he’s dug himself into. He hands the phone back to Otabek with a sigh.

“You know what?” Yuri says. “Fuck it — I’ll do it.” He throws his hands up in a resigned shrug. “What else have I got to lose?” 

“We’d better get to the rink, then,” Otabek says. “There are only four hours of open practice left.” 

Yuri jumps up from the table and hauls Otabek with him, barely remembering to stop and pay for their meal on the way out.

“Thanks, Beka,” he says as they jog to the arena. “I owe you one.” 

* * *

Yuuri glances around the rink, then back at his phone, forehead creasing with worry. Yuri hasn’t answered his calls or texts all day. Now the exhibition gala is about to start, and there’s still no sign of him. 

“He has less than ten minutes,” Viktor says, frowning at his own phone. “Where do you think he could be?” 

“What if something happened to him?” Yuuri says, voice quivering with panic. “I can’t believe we just gave him water and left him in his room, I _knew_ we should have stayed — ”

Viktor takes his hands, softly rubbing the knuckles with his thumbs. 

“He didn’t let us stay,” he reminds Yuuri, voice quiet. “Remember?” 

And of course Yuuri remembers — how could he forget? Yuri’s lips had only touched his for half a second, but the sensation will stay burned in his memory forever. That doesn’t stop his head from playing endless scenarios of how he wishes things had gone instead… especially in the moments that had followed.

The second the door closed, Yuuri had turned to face Viktor, parted lips widening into an excited smile.

“Vitya,” he breathed. “He kissed us!” 

“I know!” Viktor whispered back, fingers ghosting over his lips where Yuri’s had just been. “I can’t believe it!” 

They threw their arms around each other right there in the hallway, crying elated tears. By the time they finally pulled apart to give each other a triumphant kiss — short and sweet, just like the kisses Yuri had given them — the thought of knocking on Yuri’s door and asking if they could come back in slipped their minds.

In their drunken wisdom, they’d gone to their own room instead, where Viktor poured them each a celebratory glass of champagne (as if they needed even _more_ alcohol). Then they promptly collapsed on the bed and slept soundly until morning.

When they’d woken, finally sober enough to think about the night before with clear heads, they wondered why Yuri hadn’t invited them to stay. 

“You don’t think he immediately regretted it, do you?” Viktor asked, voice subdued and a little hurt.

“I hope not,” Yuuri gulped. “Maybe he just got overwhelmed? I mean, he’s never… done _that_ with us before. And he was really drunk. I bet it was a lot for him to process.” 

“You’re probably right,” Viktor nodded, though the glance he exchanged with Yuuri was still fearful.

They’d agreed to wait a while before contacting Yuri, not wanting to bother him in case he was sleeping. But by lunchtime, they started texting him, concerned that they hadn’t heard from him. The rest of the afternoon went much the same way.

Now it’s evening, and Yuri is still nowhere to be found — right before he’s supposed to skate.

Yuuri’s mind circles back through the questions he’s been beating himself up with all day. Why didn’t they start looking for Yuri earlier? Why didn’t they ask Otabek for help? Why did Yuuri listen to Viktor’s insistence that they stay out of the rink during open practice in case Yuri was there and wanted to keep his program a secret? Why had Yuuri helped them all get their hands on that sake last night? (Seriously, he is never drinking again.)

He pulls up Yuri’s contact on his phone to call him again, but Viktor grasps his shoulders and spins him around to face — 

“Yurio!” 

Yuri is standing in front of them, arms crossed and brow drawn, gaze fixed firmly at his feet.

“Yura, you finally made it!” Viktor greets him.

“We were so worried,” Yuuri says. “We haven’t heard from you since last night — ” 

Yuri looks up then, clearing his throat.

“About that,” he says tightly. “… I’m really sorry.” 

Yuuri’s mouth falls open.

_Sorry?_ he thinks, heart pounding frantically. _Wait a minute…_  

“Yurachka — ” Viktor starts, but before he or Yuuri can get in another word, the announcer is calling Yuri’s name and he’s taking off across the ice.

Yuuri sighs and settles against the boards next to Viktor to watch. 

It’s another new program — _oh, Yurio, you overachiever,_ Yuuri thinks fondly — this time to a song that sounds familiar but he can’t put his finger on. Viktor recognizes it instantly and lets out a hum of amusement.

“Really?” he snickers under his breath. “‘Wrecking Ball?’ I can’t believe Yura would admit to even _knowing_ this song, much less skate to it.” He leans forward, chin in his hand. “This should be interesting.” 

Yuri’s opening choreography is stripped and simple, but he executes it beautifully, arching into each movement before gliding into a gorgeous combination spin. The sequins on his sleeves shimmer under the lights, and Yuuri gasps.

“Vitya,” he whispers. “Look what he’s wearing!” 

Viktor stiffens beside him as he recognizes the outfit, too. Yuri has borrowed his costume from their closet, sporting pieces of the coordinating outfits they’d worn for an ice show two years ago, in simple black and white with matching swirls of turquoise sequins woven along the sides. Yuri fits into Viktor’s black pants perfectly, but he’s a bit too tall and broad-shouldered for Yuuri’s white shirt, which he wears open over a simple black tank. He looks _breathtaking_.

“Wait a minute,” Viktor says. “If he’s wearing our costumes… then why did he apologize for last night? I thought he meant for kissing us, but now that doesn’t make sense. Do you think he was saying sorry for getting so drunk? Because that’s stupid, we were _all_ drunk —” 

He breaks off suddenly as the beat drops and Yuri cleanly lands a quad salchow.

Yuuri cheers, heart leaping in his chest. He flashes back to that spring in Hasetsu years ago when he’d asked Yuri to help him with his quad salchow. He’s never thought to analyze Yuri’s exhibition choreography before, but now, he can’t help but wonder if Yuri is trying to tell him something — tell them _both_ something. Which means… 

“Hey, Vitya,” he murmurs, “what do you want to bet that his next jump will be a quad flip?” 

“What?” Viktor says, but he gets it a second later, eyes lighting up. He grasps Yuuri’s hand. “Oh, Yuuri,” he breathes, “do you think?” 

It happens on the next chorus, and Viktor lets out a little squeal as Yuri’s blade touches down on the ice. He flings his arms around Yuuri with such force that it almost knocks them off their feet.

“Yuuri, _Yuuri_ , oh my God!” Viktor says in a frenzied voice.

“Okay,” Yuuri says, heart thumping erratically, “with that outfit and those jumps… and — and after last night…”

“Yes,” Viktor agrees, “this routine feels like…” He trails off, fingers tightening around Yuuri’s. 

“Like a confession?” Yuuri dares to whisper.

Viktor kisses the back of his hand and nods.

“The only thing I don’t understand is the music,” he says a few moments later. “It’s an odd song choice for Yura, anyway… but for a confession, it really doesn’t fit.” 

Yuuri frowns, leaning forward on his elbows and tracing Yuri’s path with scrutiny in his gaze. Viktor’s right — ‘Wrecking Ball’ may be a love song, but it’s full of heartache and regret. It’s not a confession… it’s an apology. Just like the strained “I’m sorry” Yuri had offered them right before he’d taken the ice.

_I never meant to start a war,_ the lyrics echo through the arena as Yuri slides into a slow, controlled camel spin. _I just wanted you to let me in…_  

Finally, all the pieces click together in Yuuri’s mind.

And his heart drops to the pit of his stomach like a stone.

“ _Shit_.” 

Viktor’s head whips toward Yuuri.

“What is it?” His voice sounds muffled under the rush of Yuuri’s growing panic.

“He thinks he messed up,” Yuuri says. “Last night. He thinks it was a mistake. Like we’re angry with him. That’s why he chose this song.” He knows he’s babbling, words spilling out in nonsensical fragments as the tide of anxiety rises high enough to choke him. He sucks in a ragged breath and manages, “He thinks we didn’t want those kisses, and he’s saying he’s sorry for coming between us.” 

Viktor blinks, listening to the song’s words while contemplating Yuuri’s. Then his eyes grow round with horror.

“ _No!_ ” he cries.

They watch helplessly as Yuri slides into a stunning Ina Bauer, then sets up for his next jump. It’s the quad lutz-triple toe-triple loop combination, the difficult pass from his free program that he’s worked on perfecting all season, and he hits every mark with the song’s final chorus. Yuuri’s eyes fill with tears.

“Vitya,” he says miserably. “How did we let this happen? Yurio’s pouring his whole heart out to us, and he doesn’t even think we feel the same way.” He swallows hard. “We have to fix this.” 

“We will,” Viktor says, and his voice sounds just as thick as Yuuri’s. “As soon as he steps off the ice, we’ll tell him everything. We’ll make sure he understands.” He laces their fingers together and squeezes tight.

They watch Yuri drop to one knee and arch his back, the ends of his ponytail brushing the ice as he glides from one side of the rink to the other. He circles back to the center and twists into a combination spin, slowing to a stop as the music fades. Then he crouches into his final pose, one leg bent and the other extended, face buried in his hands. When he looks up, Yuuri can see tracks of tears shining on his cheeks.

Time slows to a crawl as Yuri rises. He turns to face each side of the arena, waving and taking his bows. Yuuri doesn’t breathe the entire time.  

At last, Yuri’s eyes find his, then Viktor’s, green gaze shimmering and wet and piercing as ever. He glances back and forth between them for a moment.

Then he whips around, races to the exit at the opposite end of the boards, and flees.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the playlist, we now have...  
> 1 - [Cake By The Ocean](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHKbaMj8mfI) by DNCE  
> 2 - [Somewhere Only We Know](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASJkHGd8Yfc) by Keane  
> 3 - [Two Heads](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhp2KCqGMZQ) by Coleman Hell (Riddler Remix)  
> 4 - [Mr. Brightside](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1gLGjPFkRA) by The Killers  
> 5 - [Part Of Your World (+ Reprise)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hARBBFT-9Ao) from Disney's The Little Mermaid  
> 6 - [Wrecking Ball](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOHPmPpLvsk) by Miley Cyrus
> 
> The other songs Yuri considered skating to in this chapter are [Dancing On My Own](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=naOXQPV7gQo) by Robyn and [Hallelujah](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xR0DKOGco_o) by Rufus Wainwright.
> 
> After I wrote the drunk shenanigans scene, I went back and looked up whether there actually are any hot springs resorts in Saitama. And there are a few. IDK if they're open all night in real life, but at least one of them is in this universe. ;)
> 
> As always, feel free to join me on my [fandom Twitter](https://twitter.com/TheTrashiverse) for all the trash shipping. 
> 
> EDIT 11/26/2018: I drew some [art](https://trashiverse.tumblr.com/post/180508948526/i-drew-some-more-art-to-go-with-my-fic-the-hope-in) to go with this fic (included above)! And there's art in chapter 7 as well!
> 
> Next (and final!) chapter: watch me play fast and loose with the 5 times/1 time format by adding a bonus +1! Because of course I'm not gonna let it end like this. Thanks for reading, and please let me know how you liked this one. :)


	7. Broken Arrows (Hasetsu Ice Castle, March 2019)

“ _Yurio_! Are you in here?”

Yuuri ducks into the last restroom, finding it as empty as all the others. He groans and steps back into the hall, thumbs heavy with disappointment as he texts Viktor and Otabek: _Bathrooms all clear. What next?_

Yuuri and Viktor have been searching for Yuri since the moment his performance ended. As soon as he left the ice, they rushed to the locker room to intercept him, but by the time they arrived, there was no sign of him. He wasn’t in the backstage warm-up area, either. But Otabek was, fresh off the ice from his own exhibition skate. 

“Have you seen Yuri?” Viktor asked without preamble, and Otabek’s eyes widened as he said, “He’s not with you?”

The three of them had split up to find Yuri, with Yuuri checking all the stadium's bathrooms, Otabek looking everywhere else, and Viktor asking every event official, skater, and coach to keep an eye out. Yuuri frantically called and texted Yuri throughout his search, but all his messages went unanswered.

Thankfully, Otabek isn’t ignoring his phone.

 _Almost done with the back offices_ , he replies to Yuuri’s text. _Why don’t you two go back in and see if he shows up for the finale?_

Yuuri finds Viktor waiting for him at the designated seating area for skaters and coaches.

“There are four more routines to go,” Viktor whispers, “then the final bow and group photos. If he’s here, either we’ll catch him at the boards or Otabek will backstage.” 

Yuuri rests his head on Viktor’s shoulder, trying to calm himself and bring them both a little comfort.

“I really hope he comes back.” 

But when all the medalists return to the ice at the end, Yuri isn’t among them. Heart pounding with dread, Yuuri shoots him another text. It stays unread like all the others. 

The lights come on and the audience moves en masse toward the exits. This is the point when Yuuri and Viktor would normally parade Yuri around for final interviews and selfies with fans. But tonight, they avoid the crowds and head straight backstage. Otabek is waiting for them just outside the locker room doors.

“He’s still not here,” Otabek says. “At this point, I’m pretty sure he’s left the building.” 

“Oh no,” Yuuri gasps. “We only checked _inside_ the building! We didn’t even look in the parking deck!” 

“Oh my God, you’re right!” Viktor groans, fisting a hand in his hair. 

“There’s nothing you can do about it now,” Otabek says, and part of Yuuri wants to shake him for being so calm when the situation’s so urgent, even though he knows it’s better than panicking. He grips Viktor’s hand to ground himself as he concentrates on Otabek’s words. “Your best bet is to go back to the hotel and see if he’s there.”

“Good idea,” Viktor says, wrapping his arm around Yuuri as they move toward the exit. “Who knows, maybe he’s been in his room this whole time.” 

Otabek peels off to meet his coach and a sponsor for dinner when they leave the stadium, flashing them both an apologetic look.

“Keep me updated,” he says. “I’ll do the same if I hear anything.” 

“Of course,” Viktor replies. 

“Thank you for your help, Otabek,” Yuuri adds, trying not to let his voice shake too much.

The walk to the hotel is mercifully short, and they somehow make it back without being recognized. Yuuri rushes to the elevators as soon as they hit the lobby, heart beating faster and faster during the ride up to Yuri’s floor. He runs down the hallway, pulling Viktor behind him, until he reaches Yuri’s room — and stops short.

It’s empty. 

Yuuri stares through the cracked door into the darkened room with its stripped bed. 

“Vitya,” he says, blinking back tears. “He’s gone.” 

“Come on,” Viktor says, tugging on his hand, “let’s check with the front desk.” 

Another elevator ride and a short sprint later, they reach the counter, panting and desperate. The receptionist looks up from her computer in alarm.

“Please, we need your help,” Viktor says, leaning onto the polished wood surface as he catches his breath. 

“Of course, Mr. Nikiforov,” she says, “what can I do for you?” 

“Yuri Plisetsky isn’t in his room,” Viktor tells her. “Do you know if he checked out? And did he say where he was going?” 

She averts her gaze, softly replying, “I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to disclose that information,” and Yuuri seizes onto the uncertainty in her voice.

“Please,” he begs, “we’re his coaches. We can’t find him. We haven’t seen him in hours.” She looks back up at him in obvious concern, and he locks onto her gaze, willing her to cave in. “We just want to make sure he’s okay.” 

She sighs and pulls up something on her computer.

“Mr. Plisetsky checked out shortly after 8 p.m.,” she says under her breath. “That’s all I know.” 

Yuuri nods, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

He feels the warm pressure of Viktor’s hand at his back.

“Come on, Yuuri,” he murmurs. “Let’s go back to our room and figure out what to do next.” 

Yuuri’s vision blurs as he follows Viktor to the elevator. As soon as the door slides shut, he collapses into Viktor’s chest and lets the tears fall. Viktor presses him closer, one hand squeezing him tight around the waist, the other cupping the back of his head. Warm lips drop to his crown, lingering for several moments.

“We’ll find him,” Viktor says, the words sending warm puffs of air along Yuuri’s scalp. “And even if we don’t… I’m sure he’ll come back to us.” 

Yuuri buries his face even further into Viktor’s shirt.

“I can’t believe he thought he had to run away,” he says.

Viktor tips Yuuri’s head back, carefully pulling off his glasses to kiss the tears from his cheeks. 

“I know,” he whispers into Yuuri’s skin. “But that just means we have to try even harder to make things right.” 

Once they’re in their room, Viktor leads Yuuri over to the sofa.

“I need you to do something for me,” he says. “Can you call everyone we know back home and tell them to contact us if they hear from Yura? Yakov, Lilia, our rinkmates? Yura’s grandpa, too. If they don’t answer, leave them a voicemail and a text.” 

“Okay,” Yuuri says numbly, taking out his phone.

“Perfect.” Viktor kisses his cheek, then goes to sit at the desk. Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri sees him type something on his own phone and bring it to his ear.

For the next two hours, Yuuri talks to their friends and acquaintances, the repetition of the task slowly calming him — even when Yakov and Lilia each let out a stream of cursing in Russian. Across the room, Viktor is speaking Russian too, alternating between arguing with someone and fuming in silence. At last, both of them hang up their phones at the same time, letting out twin sighs of exasperation.

“Well,” Viktor says, collapsing onto the bed, “I can’t get anyone to tell me whether he booked a flight home. Or to Moscow. Apparently that’s all confidential.” He flings his arm across his forehead. “What good is being a national hero when you can’t get the airports to do you favors?” 

Yuuri’s mouth twitches a little at Viktor’s dramatics.

“I could try the nearest airports and train stations here,” he suggests. “See if my national hero status is any better.” 

Viktor perks up, eyes round and hopeful.

“Would you? Please?” 

“Sure,” Yuuri nods, “if you call the skaters and rink staff back home who don’t speak English. I already got in touch with everybody else.” 

They pull their phones back to their ears, determined for better results this time. Unfortunately, Yuuri meets the same resistance Viktor had when he calls the Ōmiya station and Haneda and Narita airports. When he finally hangs up, dejected and empty, Viktor motions for him to join him on the bed.

“We’ve done everything we can do for now,” he whispers reluctantly. “Let’s try to get some rest, okay?” 

Yuuri curls up next to Viktor and closes his eyes, but he’s too unsettled to let sleep take him. He keeps pulling his phone out from under his pillow, stomach churning as he checks for new messages from Yuri. It’s almost three in the morning and he knows he’s going to be miserable tomorrow, but he can’t seem to do more than doze.

Finally, a little after five, his phone screen lights up.

“Yurio!” he cries, bolting upright, earning a sleepy groan from Viktor. But when he takes a closer look at his phone, his heart jolts in confusion. “Oh… Mari?” 

He barely gets a chance to say hello to his sister before she cuts him off.

“Care to explain why Yuri Plisetsky just showed up at Yu-Topia at ass o’clock in the morning?” she says flatly.

Yuuri’s chest caves with relief. 

“Vitya,” he gasps, shaking Viktor’s shoulder, “ _Vitya_! Wake up! Mari found him!” 

“Mmm?” Viktor mumbles, eyes still half-shut as he sits up. “Yuuri? What is it?” 

“Yurio went to Hasetsu,” Yuuri breathes, clutching at Viktor’s shirt. “He’s at Yu-Topia!” 

At the sound of Yuri’s name, Viktor is fully awake, throwing his arms around Yuuri and letting out a harsh breath of relief against his neck. 

“Yura’s okay?” he says, as if to assure himself it’s real. 

“He didn’t tell you he was coming here?” Mari’s voice breaks in, and Yuuri remembers he’s still on the phone.

“No,” he answers, hastily switching to speakerphone so Viktor can hear. “He ran away after his exhibition skate… we’ve been trying to find him all night. I’m so glad he’s with you.” 

“What’s the best way to get there from Saitama?” Viktor asks Mari. “The train?” 

“Yeah,” Mari answers, “I’m pretty sure that’s what Yurio did.” 

Viktor whips out his phone and starts ordering tickets while Yuuri gets out of bed to start packing their suitcases.

“We’re on our way,” he says, and Mari snorts. 

“Well, when you get here, good luck,” she says. “He locked himself in the room we gave him and won’t talk to anyone.” 

Yuuri’s chest tightens at the image of Yuri, finally somewhere safe and familiar, but still alone and confused and hurting, thinking they don’t love him. 

“…Tell him we’ll be there as soon as we can.” 

* * *

Viktor starts the video one more time, eyes narrowing in concentration. It’s only his fifth viewing of Yuri’s exhibition skate (not counting the actual performance), but he already has it memorized, knows what move is coming next and which part of the music swells behind it. He’s absolutely certain Yuuri was right about this performance: Yuri had skated it for them. But Viktor can’t shake the niggling feeling that there’s more he’s not seeing, that this is one small piece of a much larger puzzle.

He watches Yuri land the quad flip again — it sends a little thrill through his chest every time — then jerks forward as a new realization hits him.

If Yuri’s skate was meant to be an apology for the night before, then he must have put the whole routine together that day.

_Oh, Yura_. The choreography is simpler than usual, which all but confirms his suspicion, but it’s no less spectacular. To anyone watching, this would look like a skate that was weeks in the making, not mere hours. Viktor has known Yuri’s talents firsthand for years, grown intimately familiar with them as his coach… but Yuri is even more incredible than Viktor had ever understood.

_When I get to Hasetsu_ , Viktor promises, _I’m going to find him and kiss him senseless_.

When the video ends, he checks the time on his phone and sighs. Still over six hours to go.

At his left side, Yuuri is sleeping peacefully, his warm weight and even breaths comforting. Viktor had been aware of him stirring in their hotel bed, likely unable to quiet his mind. But with the knowledge that Yuri was safe, he’d finally relaxed, and the train’s soothing rumble had lulled him under. Viktor rests his head against Yuuri’s and closes his eyes, hoping he’ll drift off, too. But it doesn’t work. He can’t stop thinking about Yuri’s exhibition and the lingering sense that he’s still missing something.

Still leaning against Yuuri, he opens the video again. On a whim, he swipes over to a different file — the video of Yuri’s previous exhibition skate to ‘Part Of Your World.’

He presses play and can’t help but swoon a little. God, Yuri had looked _stunning_. Of all his exhibition routines, this one is Viktor’s favorite.

The choreography is exquisite, the interpretation breathtaking. It’s the kind of program Viktor might have skated himself, with a gorgeous commissioned musical arrangement if not an original piece. He wishes he could convince Yuri to skate to instrumental songs like this more often — Yuri tends to choose rock, pop, and dance numbers for both competitions and exhibitions, always with lyrics. But in this case, Viktor finds himself filling in the lyrics anyway, so it’s a moot point.

It isn’t until the end of the song that Viktor realizes just _what_ he’s been singing in his head, and he lets out a strangled cry.

Was Yuri trying to tell them he wanted to be part of their world? Did he skate this program for them, too?

“Oh my God,” Viktor mutters, hands trembling as he restarts the video. 

On second viewing, it all becomes painfully clear. _This_ had been Yuri’s confession. His love and longing were woven into every movement of his body. He’d etched those feelings across the ice, poured out his deepest secret and bared his soul. How had they not seen it?

On the heels of that thought comes an even more disturbing one: how many other times had Yuri skated for them without them noticing?

Swallowing hard, Viktor pulls up Yuri’s exhibition video from Nationals. 

For the next hour, he goes back through all of Yuri’s exhibition skates multiple times, paying careful attention to the details of the choreography, the execution, and especially the music. With each song, Yuri had revealed a different part of his feelings for Viktor and Yuuri — his desire for them, both physical and emotional; the confusion and jealousy that comes with wanting two people who already have each other; the fear and doubt that he could ever belong with them — but every time, he’d shown them his love. 

And how had they responded? As his _coaches_. Yuri had offered them his heart, and they’d given him praise and skating advice in return. No wonder he’d always seemed so frustrated. Viktor feels sick. He doesn’t even realize he’s started crying until Yuuri rouses up from his shoulder, brushing wetness from his face in confusion.

“Vitya?” he says, voice tender with concern. “What’s wrong?” 

Viktor pulls out one of his earbuds and hands it to Yuuri, then holds his phone where they both have a clear view of the screen.

“I need to show you something,” he says.

He plays Yuri’s exhibition skates again, chronologically this time, resting his head against Yuuri’s as they watch. It doesn’t take long for Yuuri’s eyes to grow as wet as his own. By the end of the last video, they both have tears rolling openly down their cheeks. 

“I feel so stupid,” Yuuri hiccups. “We’ve been trying to figure out how he feels, and he’s been showing us the _whole time_.” His face crumples. “And we were waiting until the end of the season — trying to be good coaches — ” He breaks off, burying his face in Viktor’s shoulder. “I can’t imagine — what he must think of us…” 

Viktor makes a pained noise in his throat and squeezes Yuuri tight. They stay that way for several minutes, faces to shoulders and chest to chest, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. When their bodies stop trembling and their breathing evens out, Viktor lifts his head to press a kiss to Yuuri’s temple.

“What are we going to do?” Yuuri asks, eyes red and mournful.

With a frown, Viktor pulls his phone back out, thumb poised to scroll through Yuri’s videos again. It slips and hits the home screen button instead. His eyes land on the icon for his music app, and inspiration seizes him. For the first time since last night, he smiles.

“I think I have an idea…”  

* * *

Yuri wakes up sore, drained, and anything but rested. He’s not sure how long he was out — his phone died halfway through the train trip to Hasetsu and he’d never bothered to recharge it — but judging by the sun streaming through his window, he guesses it’s mid-afternoon. He stretches and forces himself to stand.

He still can’t believe he’s _here_ instead of on the plane back to Russia where he’s probably supposed to be right now. Viktor and Yuuri must be ready to kill him. But there’s no way he could face them again after that exhibition skate. He’d barely mustered the strength to give them the apology they’d deserved before taking the ice. Seeing them now, after he’d laid the last shreds of truth bare before their eyes? It would destroy him. 

They were all planning to come to Hasetsu in a couple of weeks for the off-season. Maybe by the time they arrive, he’ll be ready to talk to them, to try to mend what might remain of their friendship — or, if nothing else, their relationship as coaches and student. But he’s not ready to think about that yet. 

Right now, he just wants to skate until the rest of the world disappears around him.

He grudgingly charges his phone just long enough to check the Ice Castle’s hours. When the screen lights up, he’s bombarded with hundreds of missed calls and texts — mostly from Yuuri and Viktor, but also from Otabek, Lilia, Yakov, and even his grandpa. And yeah, okay, maybe he shouldn’t have run off without telling anyone where he was going, and he probably needs to let everyone know he’s alive, but even that’s too much at the moment. He’ll send them all a text when he’s done at the rink. For now, he ignores the notifications and opens a new message to Yuuko Nishigori instead.

_Can I have the rink for the next few hours_? he types.

He barely has to wait ten seconds for a response.

_All yours, World Champion! :)_

Leaving the phone behind to charge, Yuri grabs his skating gear and takes off for the Ice Castle.

It’s blessedly empty. There are no patrons in the lobby or locker room, and even Yuuko isn’t at the front desk. But when Yuri enters the rink, freshly changed into his practice clothes and skates, he instantly sees he’s not alone.

Yuuri and Viktor are there, blades swishing as they cut a dual path across the ice. 

Yuri’s heart clenches. What the hell are they _doing_ here? Did they follow him? His breath quickens as he watches them skate. They’re as achingly beautiful as ever, even when they’re being ridiculous, spinning into side-by-side twizzles like a couple of fucking ice dancers. Yuri stands rooted to the spot, torn between his desire to watch them forever and his need to sneak away before they notice him. 

But of course he takes too long, and Yuuri ends up looking right at him as he comes out of a turn.

“Yurio!” he cries, which nearly startles Viktor off-balance. 

“Yurachka!” Viktor skates over to the boards and stops right in front of Yuri. Smiling, he tips his head toward the entrance. “Come on out here, we want to show you something.” 

… _What_.

Before he knows what’s happening, Viktor is skating to the gate and holding it open, and Yuri’s shaky legs are dragging him along after, completely beyond his control.

Yuuri joins them, grinning and holding out his hand for Yuri’s skate guards.

“I’ll take those,” he says, and follows it with a wink.

Seriously, _what_.

Yuri has so many questions, like _why are you smiling_ and _why aren’t you mad_ and _why are you even talking to me after I kissed you_ , but his mouth feels numb and he can’t make it form words. The best he can manage is an embarrassing squeak when Yuuri squeezes his hand as he passes off his skate guards. 

Viktor takes his other hand and leads him to the center of the ice while Yuuri skates over to the sound booth.

“We were just trying out some new choreography,” Viktor says, lightly threading their fingers together, and at this point Yuri gives up on trying to figure out what’s happening. He still has no clue why Viktor and Yuuri are in Hasetsu, much less why they seem so happy to see him, why they’re willing to _touch_ him. “Since we’re spending the summer here, I thought we could have another Hot Springs on Ice show,” Viktor continues. “We can all do some exhibition routines, and… maybe skate one together?” 

He draws Yuri into a dance hold, and Yuri’s breath catches. Viktor’s face is so close. He resolutely ignores the burning in his cheeks and makes himself stare, unflinching, right into Viktor’s soft blue gaze.

“We have a song in mind,” Viktor says, voice low and rough. “We want to see what you think of it.” 

Yuri nods. 

The music starts soft and faint, then bubbles up to fill the rink with a bright, hopeful melody. It’s something up-tempo and electronic, not what Yuri would have expected Viktor or Yuuri to choose, but it’s beautiful nonetheless. The beat kicks in and Viktor takes off, pulling Yuri along with him.

Once they’re moving, Yuri tries to let his mind focus solely on skating, but it’s impossible. How can he concentrate with the warm press of Viktor’s hands distracting him? _Don’t think like that_ , he tries to tell himself, _you can never have him or Yuuri the way you want them, you already fucked that up_. But he can’t help it. Viktor is just too intoxicating.

Without warning, Viktor leans in close, and it’s like the banquet at Europeans all over again — especially when he starts singing right in Yuri’s ear.

“ _’Cause it’s not too late, it’s not too late_ ,” he croons along with the song’s chorus. “ _I… I see the hope in your heart…_ ” 

The words shoot through Yuri like lightning.

_Holy shit_ , he thinks, mouth falling open. _This cannot be what I think it is._ But Viktor keeps singing, a warm smile evident in his voice, and Yuri’s chest feels like it’s about to explode. _…Can it?_

He barely has a chance to process it before the beat drops and Viktor flies into the choreography he and Yuuri must have just been working on. It’s clearly meant to be skated in parallel, and Yuri does his best to keep up. He follows Viktor into a side-by-side layback spin, and by the time they come out of it, their bodies are finally in perfect sync.

Eyes sparkling, Viktor takes Yuri’s hand and twirls him around. Another hand catches his mid-turn, and he finds himself in Yuuri’s arms. 

This time Yuri is a little more prepared for being pulled across the ice in a dance, but not for the proximity of Yuuri’s radiant smile. They’re skating almost nose to nose, and Yuri is dangerously tempted to repeat his mistake from that drunken night at Worlds. Something about the way Yuuri is looking at him says he probably wouldn’t mind. 

_Stop it_ , Yuri cuts himself off. _Stop thinking like that_. But he can’t — not in the face of a force of nature like Yuuri. His deep brown eyes stay locked on Yuri’s, heated and intense, and Yuri is powerless to look away.

As a skating partner, Yuuri is bold, magnetic, commanding Yuri across the ice in his wake. He leads Yuri through a complicated step sequence, his confident grip ensuring that Yuri doesn’t lose his footing. They drop down into a pair sit spin, foreheads touching, and Yuri comes back up dizzy. 

Like Viktor, Yuuri sings along with the chorus, eyes wide and beseeching. He squeezes Yuri’s hand as he repeats the phrase, “ _I see the hope in your heart_ ,” and Yuri finds it difficult to breathe.

_This has to be on purpose,_  he thinks. _But there’s no way —_  

The beat drops again, and Yuri stumbles after Yuuri through another round of new choreography, trying to follow but mixing it up with what Viktor had just shown him. He gives up and takes off into a triple loop instead, not trusting himself with anything harder, and he hears a burst of laughter as Yuuri lands his own jump half a second behind. 

Viktor rejoins them on the ice for the final chorus, skating twizzles in perfect harmony with Yuuri in a giant circle around Yuri while he stands helplessly in the center, watching them. They move in and grasp him around the waist, pulling him between them in an upright dance spin as they sing the lyrics one more time. When the song reaches its final notes, Viktor lowers him into a sideways dip, draped across Yuuri’s kneeling form.

They all hold the position for a few seconds, panting heavily. Yuuri and Viktor’s soft gazes shine down on Yuri, and his heart jolts at the adoration in their eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he could almost swear they’re looking at him — well — the way they look at each other.

They pull him back to his feet and move to stand in front of him, each taking one of his hands.

“Yura,” Viktor says, “we owe you an apology.” 

Yuri blinks. What could _they_ possibly have to apologize for? He tries to ask, but his mouth still refuses to move.

“We’re sorry we didn’t pay better attention to your exhibition skates this season,” Viktor continues. “Your music choices in particular.”

_Oh my God_ , Yuri thinks, throat going dry. _Is this —?_

“Yuuri figured it out with your most recent skate,” Viktor says, “what you’ve been trying to tell us.” He laces his fingers through Yuri’s and squeezes firmly. “But I wish… we _both_ wish we’d realized it a lot sooner.” 

“That’s why Viktor chose this song today,” Yuuri adds, “and we started working on a routine to skate with you. It was the least we could do.”

He looks up at Yuri with plaintive eyes, cheeks growing pink as he softly plays with Yuri’s fingers. With a deep breath, he says in a tremulous voice, “…We also owe you a confession.” 

Time stops moving as Yuri’s whole world reels to adjust to what he thinks he’s hearing. For an endless moment, he stands there, hovering on the precipice of his denial as it slowly begins to give way to acceptance. 

_This is it._

“We have… feelings for you,” Yuuri whispers.

“The same kind of feelings we have for each other,” Viktor clarifies, thumb stroking over the back of Yuri’s hand.

Yuri wonders if he’d fallen and hit his head on the ice while they were skating, because this has to be a dream. The soft grip of Viktor and Yuuri’s hands seems real enough — but in what universe would they actually tell him what he’s been longing to hear for years? His heart races and his head spins, and somewhere through the white noise in his ears he realizes they’re still talking.

“We should have told you before,” Yuuri says. “We were trying to be good coaches and wait until the off-season, but…” He breaks off with a helpless little shrug.

“We feel like fools,” Viktor finishes for him. “Do you think you could ever forgive us?” 

And of course, of fucking _course_ it’s just Yuri’s luck that when his voice finally returns to him, he blurts out something completely stupid.

“So — you’re not mad that I kissed you?”

His face grows hot and he wants to hide it in his hands. But Yuuri and Viktor are still holding onto them, and he really doesn’t want to let go.

“Of course not,” Yuuri says, voice cracking a little. “We could never be mad about that.” 

“In fact,” Viktor murmurs, “we would very much like to kiss you again.” 

His gaze is tentative, vulnerable. Yuri glances over and sees Yuuri looking at him the exact same way. They stand very still, expectant, and Yuri realizes they’re waiting for him to make the next move. He sucks in a breath.

“…Then do it already.” 

Yuuri skates up to him first, tenderly cupping his jaw and leaning in to press their lips together. Yuri’s skin ignites, pinpricks bursting like fire everywhere Yuuri touches. Yuuri’s lips move slowly and sweetly against his, and it’s so different from the first time they’d kissed… so much better. 

After a few moments, Yuuri pulls back with a gentle nuzzle to Yuri’s nose, and he barely has time to recover from the swooping in his stomach before Viktor moves in for a kiss of his own.

He wraps his arm around Yuri’s neck and catches his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth with a hum of pleasure. The sound sends tingles racing along Yuri’s spine. Viktor kisses him firmly, soundly, and Yuri anchors his fist in Viktor’s shirt as he drowns in the warm, wet slide of their lips.

Viktor pulls away to rest his forehead against Yuri’s, and Yuri leans into it with a sigh. On his other side, Yuuri caresses his shoulder and brushes a light kiss to his cheek. Caught between them, surrounded by their affection, Yuri’s chest swells with a surge of love so strong he thinks he might burst. His eyes prickle with tears and, mortified, he hooks his arms around their necks, hiding his face between them before they can see. 

“Well?” Viktor breaks the silence a few moments later. “Apology accepted?” 

“Of course,” Yuri chokes out, then adds weakly, “morons.” 

“Are you all right?” Yuuri asks. 

“Fine,” Yuri sniffs.

“Are you _crying_?” Viktor says incredulously, and Yuri blanches.

“No!” he barks. “Shut up!” 

“Oh, Yurio,” Yuuri hums, rubbing his back. “It’s okay.” He and Viktor move in even closer, squeeze him even tighter. Yuri releases a shuddery breath and leans into them heavily, clutching at their shoulders. 

After a few minutes standing in their little huddle, holding each other and breathing the same air, Viktor quietly suggests, “Let’s go sit down.” 

He leads Yuri to the exit while Yuuri takes off to retrieve their skate guards. Then they all collapse onto one of the benches, Viktor and Yuuri resuming their positions at Yuri’s sides. Viktor’s arm falls across Yuri’s shoulders, and Yuuri’s slips around his waist.

“So,” Yuri ventures, hating that his voice still comes out trembling. He really doesn’t want to ask what he’s about to, but he has to know. “This is… this is real? No bullshit?” 

“No,” Viktor says, a twinge of hurt in his voice. “Why would you think that?”

“Because,” Yuri says tightly, “you’re already happy together. So… why would you… why would you even _think_ about me like…?” He breaks off with a frustrated huff. He can’t believe how hard it is to talk about this. It was so much easier to tell them everything through his skating.

“You mean the world to us, Yurio,” Yuuri answers. “Yes, Viktor and I are happy together… but we’re even happier when you’re with us. We can’t imagine our life without you.” 

“And on top of that,” Viktor says, lips grazing Yuri’s cheek, “we both find you very attractive. It’s only natural that we would want to be with you.” 

Yuri’s face burns at their admissions. They really do care for him… they really do _want_ him. It’s hard not to think it’s too good to be true. 

He needs to understand one more thing before he can believe them.

“How did you figure it out?” he asks. “What I was doing with my songs.” 

“Well,” Yuuri says, “at Worlds, you were wearing our old costumes — ” 

“And you looked _beautiful_ , by the way,” Viktor breaks in with a wink. 

“Then there was the quad salchow and quad flip in your program,” Yuuri continues. “And right before your skate, you said you were sorry about that night. So when we listened to the words of your song… it all sort of made sense.” 

“We went back through your other songs after that,” Viktor says. “That’s how we knew for sure.” 

Yuri’s shoulders slump forward in a strange mix of relief and disappointment.

“So… it wasn’t the song itself, then,” he says. “If — if everything that night hadn’t happened… you still wouldn’t have gotten it.” 

Yuuri groans and hides his face in Yuri’s shoulder.

“What can I say?” Viktor shrugs, cheeks flushing pink. “We’re idiots.” 

Apparently Yuri’s brain-to-mouth filter is broken, because he replies, “That’s what Chris said after ‘Mr. Brightside.’” 

“Wait,” Viktor says, “Chris? He knew about this?” 

Yuri winces. “…And Phichit.” 

Yuuri’s head snaps up.

“What?” 

“They both guessed it after Nationals,” Yuri explains, carefully not looking at their faces. “And I thought if they did, surely you would, too… but it looks like Lilia was right. None of my songs were obvious enough.” 

“ _Lilia?!_ ” they cry in unison.

“How many people found out about this before we did?” Viktor asks.

“Just those three,” Yuri says hastily. “Well… and Beka, but only because I told him…” 

Viktor rolls his eyes, shoving a hand through his hair, and Yuuri smacks his palm against his forehead. They both turn to Yuri with sheepish, remorseful gazes. 

“We’re so sorry,” Yuuri says, gently stroking Yuri’s cheek with his thumb. “We never meant to make you doubt how we feel.”

Viktor’s arm tightens around him.

“How about we take you on a date to make up for it?” 

Yuri tries to level them with his usual glare, but he can’t help but crack a tiny grin.

“A date?” he counters. “You two owe me a hundred dates at least!” 

Viktor smiles back, eyes twinkling. 

“Better make it a thousand, then, just to be safe.” 

“And as many more dates as you want after that,” Yuuri says, softly kissing his jaw. 

Yuri melts, the tension in his back and shoulders finally fading away. They’re serious, he realizes. They actually want to date him.

“What would you like to do for our first one?” Viktor asks. “We could take you out for a fancy dinner tonight…” 

“…And then go for a romantic moonlit walk on the beach?” Yuuri suggests.

Yuri purses his lips, pretending to think about it.

“Well, if you’re going to be that sappy,” he says, “you may as well go all out.” He crosses his arms. “After the beach, I want to bathe in the hot spring. And I want that leg massage you offered the other night. Then you can feed me a bowl of katsudon in bed — and by the way, I call dibs on middle spoon.” 

Yuuri and Viktor burst into giggles and wrap him between them in a snug embrace.

“We can do all of that,” Yuuri says, at the same time Viktor grins, “That sounds delightful.” 

When they draw back, Yuri rises from the bench, taking their hands and pulling them up after him. 

“But first,” he says, “can we work on the choreography you were showing me?”

Viktor and Yuuri both nod, keeping their hold on his hands as they follow him back onto the ice. Yuri’s cheeks grow warm under their glowing smiles and sparkling gazes. When he speaks again, his voice is soft.

“…I want to hear that song again.” 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final playlist...  
> 1 - [Cake By The Ocean](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHKbaMj8mfI) by DNCE  
> 2 - [Somewhere Only We Know](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASJkHGd8Yfc) by Keane  
> 3 - [Two Heads](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhp2KCqGMZQ) by Coleman Hell (Riddler Remix)  
> 4 - [Mr. Brightside](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1gLGjPFkRA) by The Killers  
> 5 - [Part Of Your World (+ Reprise)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hARBBFT-9Ao) from Disney's The Little Mermaid  
> 6 - [Wrecking Ball](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOHPmPpLvsk) by Miley Cyrus  
> 7 - [Broken Arrows](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ip4Q1pbrYDg) by Avicii
> 
> I've made a full [YouTube playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL1fRpm9zebH85XDRxFfORv_gNQ33A9kvb) for this fic, as well.
> 
> Fun fact: A train trip from Saitama to Hasetsu would apparently be just under 8 hours, which is how I came up with the timeline for this chapter. Again, the things I research for my fics... 
> 
> And another fun fact, while we're on the subject of locations: I used the actual cities scheduled for the 2018-19 figure skating season for all the competitions shown in this story. Because I am a giant NERD. XD
> 
> Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me! This OT3 is very near and dear to my heart and I hope I did it justice. I already have ideas and future plans for more Viktuurio. Not gonna lie, I'm super tempted to write their date and what happens after as a sequel to this story, hehe. ;) But no matter what, I'm sure this won't be the last time I write for this ship, I love it way too much! 
> 
> For those of you who ship Viktuuri, I have also written a [story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16413491) for them for a [Big Bang](https://victuri-big-bang.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For your daily dose of trash shipping, pop on over to my [fandom Twitter](https://twitter.com/TheTrashiverse).
> 
> EDIT 11/12/2018: I drew some [art](https://trashiverse.tumblr.com/post/180058071511/i-drew-some-art-to-go-with-my-fic-the-hope-in-your) to go with this fic (included above)! There is also art in chapter 6.
> 
> EDIT 2/14/2018: This fic now has a sequel! It's called [Middle Spoon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17773892) and it's about their first date! :)
> 
> Aaaaand that's all, folks! If you liked this story, please let me know what you thought. Thank you so, so much for reading! :)


End file.
